Disappearing Love-Reappearing Love
by PuppetPainter
Summary: Canada loves France. But does France love him? America and England are at the moment the sweetest unmarried couple. Italy and Germany are watching everyone else while planning their marriage. Spain and Romano got into a fight the other day, and now refuse to talk to each other. USUK, Franada, Spamano ,GerIta...Other pairings are Rochu, Giripan, PruAus, Sufin. Hetalia!
1. Prologue

Canada knew it. The moment he left the World Meeting Conference Room, he knew that his life was going to change dramatically. Whether it was the breaking of his shoelaces, dropping Kumajiro on the stairs, or seeing Heracles' collection of black cats that hissed at him as he walked by—something told him that something wasn't going to be good.

Maybe the fact that someone had yelled his name and grabbed his hand as he tried to leave in a taxi also contributed.

Someone that he couldn't have known better.

France. Francis Bonnefoy.

Canada had a crush on him. Everyone knew that. Everyone except for France himself. People keep on coming up with new reasons as to which why the country of love can't detect love from around him. The newest one that was a hit amongst the nations was because France was too busy trying to make himself look spiffy and good-looking that he didn't have the time to notice his surroundings. Which both made sense and didn't.

So when France declared on the porch steps of the World Meeting Conference Hall that he wanted Canada to date him, Canada pushed every bit of his remaining self-protection out and did the only reasonable thing: he _ran away_.

England and America had tried to chase Canada back, but after about five minutes of chasing, they stopped to let England catch his breath. During that short two minutes of breath-catching, Canada had already run away, and England had cussed "The bloody hell with that frog!" sixteen times.

This isn't the normal _haha, you chase me I chase you_ love story. This is a tragic love story of a tug-a-war love. This is a story of tears and smiles, of sunshine and rainy days, of good food and bad food. This is love.

This is Franada.

Hey guys! I'm sorry about ditching my other two stories. I will return to them once I get out of writer's block! I want reviews! Reviews! They are crucial to my survival. If you see this, pls, pls, review, favorite, follow!


	2. Chapter 1 (USUK)

**Heyy guys! Forgot the clarification stuff at the beginning.**

 **I don't own Hetalia.**

 **This is the USUK part of Chapter One. This is** ** _not_** **the entire chapter.**

 _USUK_

Arthur was bent over, his gasps transforming into puffs of gas in the cold winter air. Why did the rest of the world _have_ to make the meeting be in the middle of Russia? In the middle of winter? In the middle of his date with Alfred?

The two were originally in Hawaii.

With the fruits. With the dancing people. With the _sun_.

And then they got that stupid git's email: _Respond ASAP! World Meeting! Emergency!_

Of which the meeting had turned out to be anything _but_ an emergency. The meeting had been about global warming. All the better, in this bloody weather! Plus, global warming's been an issue since the start of…forever!

And then that git…that bloody _frog_ …that imbecile…

Arthur saw how Matthew resembled the girl. Those blue eyes, the blonde, ruffled hair that got tossed around in the air…

But _still_.

That didn't mean he could go and chase away Alfred's little brother.

And plus, everyone knew that Matthew loved Francis. It was no secret. Yet the Frenchman just couldn't seem to _see_ for himself how devastatingly deep Matthew had fallen in the pit for him. For the frog to go and ask Matthew to be his boyfriend in front of everyone…Arthur had seen smarter moves.

"Artie…are you okay?"

"Arthur. Stop calling me that…that treacherous…you wanker…ha…how is your brother so darn _fast_?!" Arthur replied.

"I'll carry you." Alfred picked Arthur up. "Let's go."

"Put me down, you git! I—" Arthur began but was stopped when a bunch of wind slammed into his face and entered his throat. He started coughing.

"Artie, I suggest you put your face in my scarf. I'm picking up speed now."

And as Alfred said, Alfred did.

Arthur cussed into Alfred's scarf, his face blood-red. How very embarrassing? He must look like a helpless fool now, blimey! The hell with Alfred F. Jones. He didn't teach him to…to…

Well, yes, he _did_ teach him to help the ones that need help, to always be there for family, to always care for his lover.

But this! This is different! This isn't the same thing!

Arthur tightened his grip around Alfred's neck as he inhaled the American's scent. Alfred smelled like hamburgers and fries.

What Arthur didn't know was, as Alfred dashed along the white snow-covered roads of Russia, his lover let a smile form on his lips.

 _I'll let you breathe full of my scent tonight…just wait for a little while longer._


	3. Chapter 1 (Rochu)

_Rochu_

Damn.

At least the discussion topic was off of his butt now.

Yao groaned as he tried to get away from the Russian. Is it possible that the Russian actually liked him back? No, no, of course the creepy stalker just wanted to sexually harass him. It wasn't like he hadn't done that before, "accidentally" tearing Yao's clothes in the bar last time, "tripping" and pulling down Yao's white pants (good thing his shirt was long!), et cetera.

And every single time Yao could only retreat into blushing, shouting "Aiya! Aru!" loudly, and running away from all the snickers and staring.

Of course, the worst part is always when Kiku comes up to him with Heracles and ask, "Yao-nii, how is it going with you and Russia-san?"

Because every single darned time, Yao would start to tear up and begin to blabber about all sorts of things, and then Kiku would take him out to the bar to make him feel good, and Yao would get drunk, and then Kiku would attempt to get him to become sober, and then he would fail, and then he would call the person he thinks would take care of his brother the most.

 _Russia._

As _if_!

And each time, Russia would smile, take a very drunken Yao into his arms, then smile and say, "I'll take good care of him, da?", take Yao home, strip him nude, and then he'd tie Yao up to the bedpost, and then…

/*^*\\\\\

Damn.

Damn.

Damn.

Yao sped up, not noticing the blinking green light in front of him that suddenly switched to red.

How could he not learn?

 _Screech!_

Yao fell backwards as a bright red car veered off to the left and smashed into a light pole, missing him by just a few inches. Tire tracks were left on the wide street, and the normally empty road that he always took was soon crowded with people, cameras, and phone flashes.

The bag he held in his hand dropped to the ground as he saw who climbed out of the car. The cake inside the plastic bag fell apart, broken.

Just like his heart.

Ivan climbed out of the smashed car, examining it with a small frown on his face. The frown grew bigger when he saw Yao. From the passenger's seat, a woman came out. She had grey hair (was it white?), a blue bowtie, and was wearing a dress that kind of looked like the one Alice wears in _Alice in Wonderland_.

"What is it, my dear?" she asked.

 _My dear?_

Yao clutched his heart. His original heart problem…it couldn't possibly be coming back again, could it?

 _"…_ _don't get into any situation that's going to make you become very emotional…don't drink…you can only have sexual activities thrice a month…"_

 _"_ _don't…situation…emotional…"_

How could he forget?

And damn it, it hurt.

It hurt to see Ivan step out of that car and frown at him, it hurt to hear that woman call Ivan "my dear", it hurt even more to see Ivan loop his arm around the woman's shoulder and refer to Yao as "nothing".

Damn that…that…

Yao's eyes twitched as he slowly lost conscious. _What the fu—…?_


	4. Chapter 1 (Spamano)

_Spamano_

Lovino could swear that his pants were slipping off of him in conference.

Yet each time that they did, each _freaking_ time that he _freaking_ turned around, his pants were on, and there was no one behind him.

And yeah. He knew who the culprit was.

"Antonio! What the freak were you thinking, you bastard? _Idiota_ , you lunatic! We were in the conference! The conference! The entire time the potato bastard was shooting us nasty looks, okay? Can't you be less appropriate? I seriously think you need to get away from the brainless pervert—and get your head out of my pants!"

"My head isn't in your pants, _mi tomato_ ," a Spanish accent spoke, "and Francis isn't all that brainless. Sometimes, maybe, but not all the time. Lovi, dear, Ludwig wasn't shooting us nasty looks, he was just adoringly staring at Feli, okay?"

"You tomato bastard! Shut…shut up!"

Lovino stormed into his bedroom ( _their_ bedroom, but he could kick Antonio out whenever he felt like it) and was immediately brought into an embrace. He kicked and clawed at the arms that wrapped around him like steel. And, like _steel_ , they refused to budge. It wasn't until Lovino hissed and bit Antonio did he finally let Lovino go.

But even so, Lovino wasn't going to escape.

The next second, Lovino found himself staring into the forest-green eyes of the Spaniard.

"Don't you dare forget what you did to me. I'm not done with you yet." Lovino twisted his head.

Antonio sighed and got off of Lovino.

"My dear, dear, Lovi. Can't you just—"

"No! I can't believe you had brought it up! I thought I could get over it, I thought _you_ could get over it, but apparently you still feel that way about me. What am I to you? Huh? Answer me, bastard! Am I just some toy? Some sex tool that you use so you can show it off to others? Well guess what, I'm not! I'm not my _fratello_! If you think I'm not good enough, then you can tell me in my _face_ , instead of pulling this shit behind my back! Feli this, Feli that, Feli everything, everywhere! I know I'm not as good as him, everyone tells me that, even Nonno*, who didn't give a damn about me!"

"Lovi—"

"Antonio, if you want my brother, I'm going to tell you here that I am sorry for your pathetic butt, because even though you used to be powerful and stuff, love isn't something force and power is going to take over. He loves Ludwig—you can't do anything about that."

"No, Lovi, I—"

"And if you don't mind, I'll tell you right here, right now. You left me, scarred. The only thing I ever sought for in my life was to be a little more recognizable, to be a little more lovable. It's my fault and it isn't that I'm _born this way_. I can't help it. I'm arrogant, I'm trouble, and I've got a mouth that needs to be washed with soap. Feli is the opposite of me. I can't do anything about it."

Antonio watched Lovino with heart-stricken eyes. He hadn't meant for it to come out like that! He just…wished that Lovi would be a little bit softer with him. He wanted Lovi to cuddle up to him, to beg and flirt with him…he never wanted Lovi to think that he was unwanted.

Lovino didn't seem to feel the tears running down his agonized face.

"I won't ever forget how you wanted to trade me for Feli. I know that you wish sometimes you hadn't saved me from Turkey. I apologize…for that." Lovino swallowed. "Last of all, Antonio…"

Lovino opened the doors, turning around to whisper his final words of the argument.

"I can't bring myself to hate you."

 ***Nonno - Grandpa**

 **Hey guyssss! Dunno how's everything been! How was Christmas vacation for you guys? Love to hear ideas that can come up next in the story...review of message me for the first couple in Chapter Two~~~~**

 **Puppet Painter**


	5. Chapter 2 (Franada)

_Franada_

Matthew Williams started down at the pavement beneath his feet.

 _Damn. Damn. Damn._

 _Why?_

Why did Francis have to come to him like he didn't know Matthew loved him? Or… _did_ he know Matthew loved him? Matthew knew who Francis really liked. Everyone knew, just like how everyone knows how much Matthew loved Francis.

The snow on the ground seemed to understand Matthew's pain. They got higher and higher.

Soon enough, Matthew found himself standing in front of the hotel the nations were living at. Upon entrance, he heard Arthur and Alfred yell at the hotel clerk.

"Where's Yao? He hasn't gotten back yet! Does Ivan have something to do with this? If he does…just tell us already! It really won't kill you to tell us! And where's Matthew? Did he come back yet?"

The clerk stuttered, "B-But sir, I…I want to keep my head on my shoulders! Mr. Ivan said that if I t-told you, I-I won't keep my h-head on…"

"Never mind that! Where's the frog?"

"S-Sir, Mr. Francis is in his room—"

"Key!"

Matthew watched as Alfred and Arthur snatched the spare key for Room 510 away and rushed into the elevator. He followed them, quietly passing the hotel clerk who kept on muttering, "It wasn't me…wasn't me…"

"Damn, you bloody git! Why'd you have to ask for Matthew to be your boyfriend? It's not like he doesn't know why you're doing this."

Matthew rounded the corner into Francis' room and saw his brother and Arthur confronting the Frenchman. Francis was holding a deck of playing cards in his hand, shuffling them.

 _What am I supposed to know?_

" _Angleterre_ , I told you…" Francis' eyes widened as he saw Matthew standing behind Alfred and Arthur.

"I want you to stay away from my brother, you hear? I don't frankly care who you've slept with before, and who you want to sleep with now, but I do care if you're going to make a move on my brother. As the hero, I can't let you do such things! You trust me, I have more than a couple of dudes here in Russia that are happy to blast off your head!"

"I think he's aware of that, as he's probably slept with half of the whole of Russia's population."

"What am I missing?" Matthew asked, but no one replied to him. Francis, however, did seem to grow paler and paler with every word Alfred and Arthur was cussing.

"Are you listening, frog? We know that you still dote on Madeline. All of us still feel bad and we all still pity you because you had to watch her die. Still, the truth is Madeline isn't Matthew! If you didn't know that, know it now! It hurts him! Alfred and I've found hundreds and hundreds of love letters Matthew has written for you—"

"And poems, dude. Hundreds of them!"

"Yes, yes, he loves you so bloody much, and the poor fool still doesn't know that the real reason you want to date him is because—"

"SHUT UP!"

Arthur and Alfred immediately followed the now enraged Frenchman's orders.

"Can't you see that Mathieu is standing there?"

They turned around, surprised the moment their eyes rested on Matthew. They began to stutter, quite like the clerk they had left terrorized at the front desk.

"Is it true?"

No one answered.

"I see. Thank you…for telling me, Alfred. Arthur." Matthew nodded silently towards Francis who started to get off the bed.

"Wait, _mon cher_ , I—"

"Sorry. I shouldn't have been in here in the first place anyways." With that, Matthew left the room. Alfred and Arthur stood, dumbstruck, at the place where Matthew had stood and listened to the entire one-sided conversation.

Francis gritted his teeth.

"I don't know. I still love her, but there's something about Matthew, and it's not just his looks. Maybe next time without knowing beforehand all the details, don't go off automatically assuming that I'm just searching for a replacement. Thank you for your hospitality, _Angleterre, Amerique_." Francis pulled the top card of his deck off and stuck it in Alfred's hand.

Alfred held the card up as Francis rushed out of the room.

 _JOKER._

 **I just went back and realized what the problem was! There was a missing Franada chapter? No wonder the chapters wouldn't add up! Sorry!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	6. Chapter 2 (Gerita)

_GerIta_

Feliciano watched as Ludwig paced around the room.

"Ve~ Luddy, you seem troubled! What's the problem?" Feliciano walked up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around him.

"Oh, Feli. Oh." The normally strict German was now stuttering? Feliciano knew that something was wrong. Very wrong. Absolutely wrong. Did it have something to with their upcoming marriage? Did Ludwig not want to…marry him anymore?

"Am I…"

As if knowing what Feliciano wanted to say, Ludwig immediately said, "No, that's _not_ true. It's not about our marriage! That's going to keep on going on just like planned! It's just…I'm worried about your brother and Antonio. And Yao and Ivan. And Francis. But mostly Matthew. Things aren't going the way we want it to go. I'm afraid that under the circumstances, no one will be in the 'celebrating' mood. Vater also hasn't come back yet…"

"Germania…? Nonno too…I wonder when they're going to come back from their honeymoon?"

Ludwig sighed.

"Feli, they're not on a honeymoon! They're just trying to get some business done."

"Sure, sure! That's what they told you to say, isn't it? I know what they're trying to do! It's not honeymoon, it's just a reeaaaallyy long date, right? Ve~"

Ludwig felt the little Italian hug him from behind.

"Luddy! If you think the wedding is too rushed, it's okay to tell me! I don't mind putting it off for a while, as long it's not _too_ long! Also, right now the most important thing is getting Francis and Matthew back together. Everyone is so worried about them! Even _fratello_ , he called me earlier and only said six words!"

"Which six words?" Ludwig asked, snapping back to what had happened earlier in the day.

"Damn, shit, f*ck, bastard, _idiota_ , _fratello_!" The Italian laughed happily. Ludwig turned around and brought his lover into his embrace.

"Okay. Three things, Feli, are you listening?"

"Yes!"

"Number one: we are _not_ going to push off the wedding as of now. Even if everyone else is going to get affected by the matters that are going on, we can't do anything about it. Number two: tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we're going to go find your brother and get him to stop fighting with Antonio. If I'm correct, he went back to the house to get some of his belongings, and ended up getting even more angry at Antonio. Number three: after we find your brother, we're going to find Matthew and Francis. All of know what Francis is doing to Matthew, but Matthew doesn't know—"

A loud knock at the door stopped Ludwig's speech.

"Potato Bastard! Is my brother in there?"

Ludwig sighed and rubbed his temples. Feliciano excitedly jumped up and ran towards the door, letting a soaked, shivering, and very, very, _very_ , irritated _fratello_ in. Feliciano greeted his brother with a giant hug and proclaimed, "We don't have to do number two on the list now, right? Ve~!"

"Yes, we don't. But we still have to go deal with Franc—"

Another set of knocking, this time much softer, much less rude.

Ludwig went to open the door just to see a furry bear stare him in the eyes. From behind the bear a blonde mass of hair poked out. Tears flooded the face that was pale white, and from the glasses, long eyelashes covering violet pupils stared (quite like the bear) at Ludwig.

"Yes, come on in, Matthew."

The next shivering person of topic stepped into the warm room.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know who else I could find that I could trust to tell me the complete truth. Lovino, can I talk to you for a moment?"

 **Hey guys!**

 **Glad to see people reading this! Means a lot to me! (No sarcasm. Rly)**

 **Pls continue to review, PM me, or follow/fav. Reviews mean a lot to me, even if they're just a period (JKJK, don't just give me a period pls!) The extra will be coming up February 14th, a.k.a...you guys know!**

 **And hey um...just to clarify things-this is going to have a not so sad ending. The middle part is going to (prob) make you cry though. The chapters will get longer! Thanks for reading!**

 **Puppet Painter**

 **P.S. (I'm sorry for the long ending...) I should be posting regularly on Monday and Thursday nights for this fanfic until the end!**


	7. Chapter 2 (PruAus)

_PruAus_

Roderich moaned and face-palmed himself as he watched Gilbert slam his electric guitar all over the stage into bits. Soon after, his "awesome" boyfriend stared at the remaining pieces of the guitar (the handle?) and slowly said, "Oops."

Yes, _oops_ indeed!

The one he had just broken into bits was a present from the Austrian. It had taken forever for Roderich to just find an instrument that was suitable for the German (yeah, yeah, whatever. German, Prussian…Prussia doesn't even exist anymore!). Other than the violin, Gilbert had really wanted to do something that went along with the lines of "cool, awesome, rock, loud, awesome, shiny, star, awesome, awesome, designed-for-me, awesome, not-classical, awesome, and electrical".

And so Roderich had been so kind to go out and find an electric guitar. Of course, how _obvious_ could it get without just saying "electric guitar"? At first the Austrian didn't approve of the idea. The instrument itself was loud, obnoxious, and way to flashy. But the mere thought that Gilbert, _his_ Gilbert, would like it made him fish the money out of his pocket and pay for the instrument.

As Roderich headed backstage (like he always did for every single one of Gilbert's performances), he heard the Cuban call "Incoming!"

Maximo had joined in the "Awesome Bird" last year. Still new, he had been attempting to learn how to play the electric piano with wicked chords. But dang did that boy pull off a good tempo when sitting in front of the drums! It only took Gilbert three seconds to drag the Cuban off from the piano the next time rehearsal rolled around and sit him in front of the drums.

Roderich slammed into a girl as she hastily ran by. She had a flower in her light-brown hair, her green dress and white apron swishing by as she dashed down the hall. The most vivid thing he remembered was her clutching something—flashy, brightly-colored, and chipped—in her embrace.

"Hey, Gil—" Roderich started, but then his eyes caught sight of the instrument in his lover's hand. It was undamaged, and much catchier than the one he had gotten for Gilbert.

"Oh hey, Roddy! I um…was just finishing cleaning up!"

Roderich felt his blood run cold as he saw Gilbert wipe a trace of something red from his face. He ran over and grabbed the German/Prussian's hand.

"Are you bleeding?" he asked.

"No! The awesome me can't bleed! Kesesese~!"

Roderich dropped the Gilbert's hand.

"How long? How long has it been going on?"

Gilbert stared at him, but the flash of guilt that darted through Gilbert's eyes was way too obvious for the Austrian who was always inspecting things in detail.

"Wh—what do you mean?"

"How long has that girl known you?"

"Veta? No, no, that's um…"

"Don't lie to me, please."

Gilbert fumbled around with his new electric guitar. Roderich watched, straining to keep those tears behind the frames of his glasses, hoping that Gilbert really didn't do it, clenching his fists and biting the bottom of his inner lip.

"Three months."

"How many times?"

"Roderich!"

"I asked you, _how—many—times?_ "

Gilbert sucked in a breath, glancing at the lover, who had obviously now lost complete control of himself. Shaking and crying, Roderich was oblivious that he had already failed at keeping the tears tucked away, failed at attempting to keep calm.

"Twice. A week."

The room grew eerily silent.

"Thank you for your kindness. I'm glad that at least in the end you didn't lie to me. At least I still remain somewhere in there with a little bit of respect, huh?"

"Wait, no, Roddy, I-!"

Roderich fled the room, quite unlike the girl before him. While the girl had left blushing and thrilled, Roderich had left in tears and sorrow.

"I've really f*cked the crap out of that, haven't I? Not so awesome, right?"

Maximo nodded.

"Yeah, you _totally_ f*cked that one up."

 **Hahahahaha! I completed another chapter. TODAY! Yes!**

 **Sry about the whole "Prussia" being a jerk thing for all you Prussia fans! I just wanted to type the words, "Not so awesome" and link them to Prussia** ** _sooooo baddddd_** **! There's only going to be three pairings that are going to be like this, and I guess you guys've probably figured out which three *cough*Rochu, PruAus, Spamano*cough*.**

 **The next chapter is going to be Rochu again, but the next next one is going to be Sufin. I swear! And I** ** _will_** **elongate on the Franada scenes. Feel like I'm kinda writing three main plots in one story, eh?**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading!**

 **Review and Favorite/Follow!**

 **Sincerely, PuppetPainter**


	8. Chapter 3 (Rochu)

_Rochu_

Ivan found himself sticking around the Oriental more and more. And it wasn't just his looks, Ivan knew, it was something more. Each time Yao looked at him, each time Yao got drunk and he took him home, each time Yao writhed around under his body, begging, moaning, screaming…

Yes.

Ivan Braginsky knew that he had fallen in love with the ancient nation.

And he _knew_ that Yao had a heart problem.

So damn it! Why couldn't he have treated Yao nicer? Why did he have to reject his feeling towards Yao every single damned time?

When he turned around and wrapped his arm around Natalya, he knew that he had hurt Yao. But Ivan hadn't tried to check on Yao. No, and if only he had, Yao wouldn't have ended up in the surgery room, only to be removed later and be put into the ICU.

The doctors had said:

 _"_ _He might leave any second."_

What would be of China when Yao left? What would be of Yao's family? What would happen to Southeast Asia—no, the _entire_ continent of Asia?

Damn!

Ivan splashed water on his face, trying to wipe away that last look he had seen on Yao's face before he had turned around with Natalya. Before he had walked off under the gazes of hundreds of people that had gathered around to examine the damage.

Before Yao's heart began to fail again.

Yao was ancient. Yao was respected. Yao was China, one of the greatest civilizations that had ever lived. But Yao wasn't impenetrable.

All these years, all the wars, all those burdens, the weight of the massive country that had pressed itself down on Yao's shoulders had left Yao in a fairly unstable condition. The thin, untreated, pressurized man that Ivan loved so much, _so damn much_ , was now lying in a hospital bed because _he_ , Ivan Braginsky, had drawn out the last straw that was holding the nation up. He was the one that had finally ruined Yao.

Yao always shouted at him, telling him to bug off, to find someone his own size to creep on, but Ivan knew that Yao loved him, just as much as Ivan loved Yao. Ivan loved Yao's brown-amber eyes, his long, silky hair, his Chinese accent, and most of all, Yao's signature word, "Aru!"

When there was no one that wanted him, Yao had stuck out his hand and pulled him out of the snow.

When there was no one that believed in him, Yao had trusted every single word Ivan had said.

When there was no one that stood beside him, Yao always, always, always, came back to him and embraced him in a hug.

 _"_ _Become one with me, da? Don't leave me, da?"_

 _"_ _Aiya, aru! I will always be here for you!"_

 _"_ _Why did you betray me? You love Kiku, not me, da?"_

 _"_ _Silly Ivan! What are you talking about? You and Kiku aren't the same, aru!"_

 _"_ _What am I to you?"_

Ivan snapped out of his trance. Glistening water droplets fell into the washbasin and down the drain. He stared at the image of a man with silver hair and violet eyes, with a nose that was slightly bigger than most.

"What was I to him?"

"Patient 483, under critical condition! Immediate operation!"

Ivan's head swerved to the bathroom door as he bolted out, eyes wide. Doctors and nurses were running down the hall. A frail figure lay in the bed that was being pushed at remarkable speed towards the ER.

Patient 483.

483.

Yao.

"Yao!"

Ivan dashed behind the retreating figures of the doctors and nurses, following the gurney.

F*ck!

He had better be okay, please, please, please…

Ivan sank into one of the chairs outside the operation room, feeling the hand of Yao's younger sister sliding across his back.

"Hey, it's okay. Da Ge is going to be alright! You just—just—just have to b—believe."

From these words, Ivan finally understood the word _family_. The word that carried love, trust, and most importantly, _forgiveness._

 **I'm still pondering about the sad ending...nice reviews? Pls, Pls?**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. I still remember when I was taking my European countries flag test in 8th grade...the only flag I got wrong (and it was because I couldn't remember?!) was GERMANY! And I had flipped the paper around to check all my answers...and still ended up with...nothing? Dunno if you guys've done smthg like that before...QAQ~~**


	9. Chapter 3 (Sufin)

_SuFin_

Toni laughed as his stone-faced husband chased Mathias and Lukas out the door to fetch some more supplies for Ludwig and Feliciano's wedding.

"Berwald, they're probably just as tired as we are. Sometimes I wonder why I had to agree to Ludwig's plead." Toni checked off some more items as a grumbling Norwegian and an exhausted (and wobbly) Danish returned back into the house.

"Because it's Ludwig," his husband simply said, then ordered the other two to get some more things.

"Hmm…that actually may be right. I wonder if I would have said yes if Feliciano was the one that came to ask me. Toni faced the giant white ribbon with a flower in the middle—half black, yellow, red; half green, white, red.

The colors of the soon-to-be-married couple's countries.

"Mom! Mom!"

Toni swerved around towards the sound of the desperate voice. He saw a very worried Peter rush in through the open doors, throwing the box he had in his arms onto the ground and diving into Toni's embrace.

Upon the commotion, Berwald walked back in, and immediately helped the fallen Toni up off the ground. Peter was still clutching his mother's shirt, sobbing, wiping his tears, snot, and everything else that was leaking from his face onto the clean fabric.

"What's wrong?"

Peter sniffled.

"Number one, Raivis just confessed to me! Number two, I heard Arthur and Alfred say that Lovino and Matthew had run away! Number three, Yao is probably going to die, or so I heard from Mei! Number four, Ludwig and Feliciano might postpone their marriage!"

"What?"

The two voices groaned in unison and fell to the ground together.

"You can't be serious! Lukas and I have been working our butts off like crazy over here and those two _might_ postpone their marriage? Can't they be less caring?" Mathias grumbled, pressing his red face onto the cold wooden floor.

"I am _so_ done with this!"

"Wait, let's take it one at a time!" Toni declared.

"If my wife says so, then we listen."

"Thank you, Berwald!"

Toni's husband walked off into the kitchen to get something for the five of them to drink. Meanwhile, Toni had finally pried his sobbing son off of him and gotten Lukas and Mathias to get up from the floor and properly sit themselves on the couch.

"How does it get so damn hot up here? We're, like, in the north, near the North Pole, for, like, goodness' sake!"

"Mathias, you're starting to sound like Feliks," Toni said.

"Haha! Really? Cool!"

Lukas rolled his eyes towards Mathias.

"That's _not_ cool. Nor is it okay. How have I put up with you for so long?"

"Guys! So, Peter, as you said…Raivis proposed to you?"

"Yeah! He asked me to be his…girlfriend! And when I couldn't understand him, he told me that he wanted me to his _lady_! He also promised to give me a lot of manga!"

"Okay…yeah, I will go and talk with Eduard and Toris about that. Next, you said something about Matthew and Lovino disappearing? Yes…well, I think that that's up to Francis and Antonio to deal with, but we can help search for them when we get back into town to discuss about Ludwig and Feliciano's wedding. And you said something about that being postponed?"

"Yes, but also, don't forget Yao! Yao's dying!"

"He's a nation, he can't die!"

"Yes, he can!" Lukas quickly countered. Mathias frowned.

"How?"

"None of us have ever been close to it, but Gilbert has! He mentioned something about it. Once."

"Yeah? So, what's it like?" Mathias asked.

"It's like fading and people ripping you from limb to limb. If your economy is your right leg, then your politics is your left, your population is your right arm, and your culture is your left arm. Once those things start falling, so do you…it's only because Ludwig came up fast enough for Gilbert to join into, that's the only reason he hasn't died yet. But Yao…" Toni stopped, thinking about the question.

"There's nothing wrong with China that we know of…"

"Yeah, but, well, the Chinese government does have a way of hiding things from the outside world!"

"But they can't hide it that well for Yao to be failing like that!"

Berwald returned from the kitchen with the drinks for everyone. He handed everyone their own drink. Then, slowly, he said, "Maybe Yao's dying because he, as a person, is dying, and not because the nation is."

 **Dung-dung-dung! Haahahaha! Yeah, I know, I know, I'm such a big jerk, but I just felt like it! This is gonna go on for a really long time (I hope), but I'll stick to the Monday and Thursday resolution. Reviews and favorite/follows get me the motivation to keep on going!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. Don't forget the Valentine Day special is coming on Valentine's Day! Oh, and, the best part is that another special is also coming in when this story gets to 999 views or I get 10 reviews _or_ 20 follows/favorites!**


	10. Chapter 3 (Giripan)

_Giripan_

Kiku watched his brother's gas mask become misty, then clear again. The beeping heart monitor echoed the speed of his heart—dreadfully slow.

The thought had doomed on him only after Yao-nii had been taken into the surgery room and, according to the doctors, " _Stabilized, but still needs 24-hours round care_ ", and taken back out into the ICU.

Kiku gulped, the lingering question that revolved around in his mind returning.

 _What if Yao-nii doesn't make it?_

What would happen to China? What would happen to Asia? What would happen to the world? As a major power that's connecting the Eastern Hemisphere, the loss of the Chinese representative at the World Conference would result in major problems…possibly mass confusion and chaos.

Kiku knew whose fault it was.

The whole family, Yong Soo, Mei, Leon, knew.

It was the Russian's fault.

The whole family knew why Yao was dying—fading—away. It is impossible for a nation to fall; for example, Heracles, his lover: no matter how bad the economy is, a nation cannot fall unless taken into the hands of another ruler and destroyed.

Yao-nii was dying because he _wants_ to die. He doesn't want to live anymore, to suffer the pain that the Russian was bringing to him. The family knew how deep Yao was sinking inside the water for Ivan—possibly more than Matthew for Francis. But the Russian himself just couldn't show his affection back towards Yao-nii.

Kiku sighed.

It would be such a good video!

Even Yong Soo and Leon were more cooperative!

Kiku peeked outside the door to see the figure of the tall man slumped across a row of chairs. Kiku left the room, tapping the man on the shoulder. Immediately, Ivan Braginsky snapped awake.

"Is he okay?"

"Hai. It's Ivan-san's shift now. I'm going to go back to the hotel," Kiku said.

The Russian nodded and went inside the ICU.

Kiku sighed (again) and started to head for home. Outside, he found a familiar white car, parked in front of the hospital, as if knowing that he would be showing up right now. The Greek sitting inside had long been away from "awake".

As Yao-nii would have said, Heracles was sitting and playing Chinese Chess with Mr. Zhou.

Kiku smiled at the warm memory of his brother pointing and rolling his eyes at Heracles who had been half covered with cats.

But those times were past.

Kiku softly rapped on the window of the car, and he was answered with a groggy, "Huh? Is it Kiku?"

"Hai, it is me, Heracles-san."

"Come in, let's go back to the hotel," Heracles said, and reached over to pull the lock open. Kiku climbed into the warm car and gazed up at the winter sky. Russia really was a cold place. Growing up in this kind of weather, in this kind of place…

It really explains Ivan-san's heart.

Cold, bitter, yearning to be loved.

When Kiku and Heracles arrived at the hotel, they found the kitten Leon had given Kiku the other day, his excuse being, "Yong Soo hates cats", sitting in the middle of the bed, emerald eyes aglow in the dark.

Kiku had rolled his eyes when Leon had showed up on the porch of their house. Yong Soo wouldn't hate _anything_ , because he doesn't even understand what the word _hate_ means. And, he would grope anything in the chest, especially cats', because…well, they're soft, fluffy, and warm.

Which is probably why Leon had chased the kitten out.

Kiku had brought the kitten here because he was scared if he let the animal stay by itself in the house, by the time he and Heracles returned, the "house" would no longer be a "house".

The kitten turned out to be much stiller than he thought.

When Kiku and Heracles sat down on either side of the bed, the kitten jumped up and made itself home in Kiku's lap.

"That's my spot," Heracles grumbled sleepily.

Kiku laughed. The kitten hissed. Heracles lunged out and grabbed the kitten by its front paws.

"Hisss!"

"Shh…you can sleep on my pillow…Kiku is mine…"

Kiku's flushed deep crimson as his lover drifted off into Dreamland again, this time on his lap. Nevertheless, he bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Heracles forehead. Shifting slightly, he adjusted his body so that he was too lying down on the bed.

Unknown to him, the kitten he had named Hiroshima was staring at him with dark green eyes.

Eyes like the embers of the fire in England's basement, which was currently blazing with the essence of magic.

 **It's almost midnight...sorry for the lateness! Things are starting to get a little more complicated...What's going to happen to Yao, Matthew, Lovino, and Feliciano? Sorry for the confusion if some of you were like...** ** _huh? Where is this now?_** **The Nordics are the only ones that didn't go to the World Meeting because they were preparing the wedding; everyone else went to Russia for the World Conference. See you Thursday!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	11. Chapter 4 (LietPol)

_LietPol_

"Like, they can't just do that!"

"Feliks, what do you mean? Are you talking about nominating Alfred as the hero of global warming, cancelling Feliciano and Ludwig's wedding, or making us stay here for a couple more days to find Matthew and Lovino?"

"All of them! Like, these people are totes crazy!"

Toris sighed. His best friend was fuming, cutely stomping in the snow…

 _Cutely?_

Toris shook his head and gazed down at the short Polish.

Yes. _Cutely_.

Feliks was pouting, his face red from the biting breeze whirling in the air, his hands clenched together, his lips strawberry-red from the cold.

"Well, Feliks…we should go and help find Matthew and Lovino. Francis and Antonio are completely devastated, not mentioning Gilbert, who had just been found to…" Toris stopped at swallowed, uncertain whether he should continue or not. And Feliks _really_ is _cute_.

"Be, like, cheating on Roderich," Feliks picked up, oblivious of the gaze. "News travels, like, really fast! I know, but the Alfred being 'hero of global warming'? Since, like, when was that, like, the thing?"

"Yes, I can understand that—"

"And I, like, totes swear that by Ludwig's personality, there's, like, no way he's going to cancel the wedding, unless, like, he wants to see Feliciano cry, and that, like, would be really bad."

 _How does Feliks say so much in one breath?_

"Hey, there's Natalya. Why is she, like, hanging outside of the hospital in, like, a creepy stalker mode? Oh, I, like, get it! It's, like, because Ivan's in there, right?"

The mention of the girl sent a warm shiver down Toris' spine. But then, the mention of the Russian sent a cold shiver up to meet the warm shiver.

"Yeah," was all Toris could manage.

"Let's, like, go say hi!" Feliks shouted, and grabbing Toris' hand, dragged him towards the girl. Toris felt a blush creep through his cheeks. Feliks' hand was so small! But it was really warm too…is it because he puts it in his pocket…no, that's not right, Feliks' hands get waved around when he's talking…

The Lithuanian didn't seem to notice that the other half of Feliks' red cheeks was due to the fact that he was holding Toris' hand. If Toris bothered to listen a bit more carefully, he would realize that Feliks was saying "like" a lot more that he normally does.

Twice as more.

Possibly thrice.

Goodness.

"Hey, Natalya!"

The girl spun around towards the incoming two, and bared her teeth—much like a tiger.

She hissed. Like a tiger.

"What do you two want? If you're not going to go in, why are you here?"

Feliks rolled his eyes.

"We're on the street, for goodness' sake! We can _stand_ here if we want for _hours_ and, like, not have to go in! And I suppose the nurses, like, chased you out because you were trying to take Ivan home, right? And they totes got mad at you for 'disturbing the patient'?"

Natalya frowned.

"Yeah. So? What does that have to do with you?"

"Nothing. But, like, don't block the entrance. _We're_ going in, 'cause we _aren't_ kicked out for being _creepy stalkers_. Seriously, like, how can you totes not tell your brother doesn't like you?"

"He is my _soul mate_!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

The entire time, Toris didn't say any words, just silently gripped the smaller Polish's warm hand, blushing furiously.

But this time, it wasn't because of the Belarusian.

This time, it was because of the warmth spreading from the Polish's fingertips.

 **Hey guys! Today's Thursday! Later I'll post another two chapters, sorry for the early, early,** ** _early_** **update! Just can't wait to see what you guys think about this**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. Rly rly sorry that this is so short. Kinda had a bit of LietPol writer's block...**


	12. Chapter 4 (Franada)

_Franada_

Francis screamed Matthew's name, loud, clear, desperately, but the snow once again covered his voice relentlessly. Next to him, Antonio had already broken down, sobbing and murmuring, "Lovino, Lovino, Lovino…" over and over and over, again and again.

Arthur and Alfred had joined them a while ago, apologizing for their rash behavior. They had said, "If we can't find Matthew, you can blame the it on us."

Then they showed the key figure for their change of mind: the _joker_ card.

Francis did know, however, that it _was_ his fault Matthew had run away. If in the beginning, he had thought about the whole situation more thoroughly, things wouldn't have occurred the way they did.

"Mathieu!"

"Francis…" Antonio croaked, his body almost fully encased inside the snow.

"What?"

"I want my axe. Bring me my axe. I know where Lovino is, and the last thing I'll ever do is bring him back to me, if I have to. Get me my axe."

Francis gapped at his friend, whose gaze was unfocused and dull.

"Antonio…?"

"He told me that I was pathetic. That power could win no love. I'll show him what power can win love. If I can't win him by the power of love, I'll just have to win him some other way. He thinks he knows me so well. I've had to put up with his attitude, with his complaints. He tells me that I don't think he's as good as Feliciano. Well," Antonio laughed, "he's finally right about one thing. He's _not_. But I'm such a coward, such an imbecile, such a bastard, I've fallen in love with him and I can't stop loving him. If I have to die to prove my point, I'm going to kill. I once swore to you and Gilbert that I'll never kill again, that I'll never snap. But that before I understood the word "true-love". I don't want any mountains, any rivers, any seas, islands, anything to call my own. I just want _one_ damned thing, and it _never stays_! What do I have to do? My axe, Francis!"

Seeing that his friend had already set his heart, Francis pulled Antonio out of the snow and called a taxi.

The two arrived back at the hotel and Francis took Antonio to his room. The normal exuberant Spanish was now gone, replaced by a fuming, deadly nation.

Ever since the Netherlands had crushed Spain, the axe has been in Francis' hold. Francis was in charge of the axe now, given to him by Tim. He brought it with him everywhere he went, so that if he ever needed something to calm the Spaniard on a rampage down, he could take the axe to him.

He never needed to again after Romano showed up in their lives.

But now…

Francis shakenly placed the metal weapon into the waiting hands of his best friend. He watched Antonio loosely grip the hilt of the axe, then tighten his grip. Power surged through Antonio, and his friend's eyes came to focus, clearer than they had when Romano was still around him.

"Power…" Antonio muttered.

"Antonio…?"

"Yes?"

"Do we go find Mathieu and Romano?"

"Romano…yes. Lovino. _Lovi._ " The Spaniard's voice sounded distant, as if he were in some sort of trance that he couldn't wake up from.

Francis and Antonio walked back outside the hotel, but this time cold wind wasn't the thing that was enveloping Francis. It was hot fury, waves of the fuming anger that rolled off of Antonio's body. The person in matter was oblivious of this, muttering, "Lovi, Lovi, Lovi dear, Lovi, Lovi…"

This time, they headed straight for Ludwig and Feliciano's apartment.

Francis knew that this would be the place where they would find them, because every other possible place had already been searched through by the two. And, _Amerique_ and _Angleterre_ had both said so…that Mathieu and Romano would be at Ludwig's house.

Approaching the door, Francis gave three sharp knocks.

"Who is it?" Mathieu's soft voice rang out.

"Mathieu…"

Something shattered inside, and Francis was certain his love had crashed onto the floor. He started pounding even harder on the door, until Antonio said in a very low voice, "Move."

Francis wondered how Antonio was going to get him in, and it wasn't until the axe was cutting through the air did the French realize what was really going on and how dangerous Antonio was at the moment.

The door finally cracked open and _Angleterre_ 's face poked out from behind the crack.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, we were dealing with some issues. Romano wanted to come out and cut Antonio into pieces, and wouldn't stop saying the words 'tomato _bastardo'_ and ' _idiota'_."

Everything was quiet for a couple of seconds.

Francis poked his head inside to see if Mathieu was there. He wasn't. The Frenchman sighed and groaned in disappointment. He pushed the door wider, only to be shoved back himself.

"Lovino, I give you three seconds before the heads start rolling."

Francis stared in horror as his best friend lifted the axe up to _Angleterre_ 's neck.

 **Wa-sai! That's a Chinese term I learned, heh-heh! I wanted to make an evil Spain, ahahahahha. The next chapter is going to be Spamano, just so that the suspense doesn't have to keep going on. This one is entitled F** ** _ranada_** **, but the next couple ones are going to be more like Franada and Spamano. Evil Spain = Good Romano. HAHAHAHAHAHAH!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	13. Chapter 4 (Spamano)

_Spamano_

Antonio felt his mind drift in and out of focus. There was only one—no, _two_ —things that was on him mind.

Power.

Lovi.

He was so tired of being the nice guy. He wanted to be the bad guy, for once, even if it killed him, he was going to be the bad damn guy. He didn't understand how hard it was to hold back all the anger, the fury, the desperate plead for power, until he had gotten it back.

He was so damn tired of holding that fake smile.

That fake laugh.

That fake conversation.

"What the hell do you think you're going, _bastardo_?" Lovino screamed, bolting out of the living room, crashing into the wall, and running down the hall.

"What the hell do you _think_ I'm doing? Lovino Vargas, I'm so done with you and your horrible temper! Do you understand what you've done to me? I'm always holding back, holding back! I'm Spain! I'm not _weak_ , I'm not economically crippled! I have one of the greatest cultures spinning inside of me, yet you—you treat me like I'm your _dog_! I'm going to show you, I'm the boss. You're my servant! Lovino Vargas!"

"Antonio!" Francis finally shouted. Antonio ignored him, his hand dangerously shaking, the blade sliding unsteadily near Arthur's neck.

"Call an ambulance. Now!" Lovino shouted. He grabbed something from the fruit dish that was placed on top of the shoe-rack.

"Lovino…I love you so much! Won't you just come back with me?"

"No!"

"You think that I hurt you, right?"

"Yes!"

"Don't you think I'm hurt too?"

Lovino stopped, his eyes wide. _Did…did I hurt him? Have I hurt him_?

"I'm such a fool, such a powerless idiot, I've fallen in love with you…don't you know, Lovino, I can sacrifice the world just to get you back. I can murder thousands and millions, if that's what it takes to make you come back to me. Doesn't your heart hurt? Or do you think that I'm a nasty, disgusting, revolting figure?"

"Who told you that?" Lovino asked, his hand shaking as he came to the threshold. Arthur was still warily eyeing the axe at his neck. Francis was trying to convince Antonio to drop the axe and "peace-talk".

And Antonio was _crazy_.

He had gone insane, Lovino knew, from the very moment he saw him swing the axe through the air, he knew that the axe had brought back another Antonio, the axe had brought back _Spain_ , and not _his_ Antonio, not his cherry Antonio that he loved so much.

If only he hadn't done the things he'd done, if only he was more like Feliciano, more compassionate, more happy-go-lucky, more accepting, more, more, more…

"What are you doing? Leave him alone, dude!"

Alfred burst out of the living room, but one gaze from Antonio told him to freeze.

"An-Antonio? Is that still you? Dude, this isn't cool at all, why are you trying to kill Artie? Hey? Hey man? You still alright?"

"Antonio, drop the axe."

"Lovi, you are my _servant_. Servants don't tell their masters what to do. Why aren't you at home, planting tomatoes?"

"Antonio, I am _not_ your servant. I've been free for the last couple of years. I don't know whatever—no, _whoever_ —you are, but Antonio Carriedo is my _lover_. I want you to set him free…now!"

"Lovino Vargas!"

Antonio felt himself get knocked over on the inside, and his spirit seemed to float up above him, wrestling, tangled up in a fight. There was one side that wielded the axe, another that was chucking…were those tomatoes.

Someone pulled on his hand, urging him to drop the axe.

He saw Lovino charge at him, fear in his eyes.

He felt his hand move the blade back away from Arthur's neck, and slicing it through the air.

He felt his hand stop.

Lovino crashed into him.

A sharp, stinging sensation mixed with a warm fluid spreading around his stomach covered Antonio, and before he crashed into the ground, he saw Lovino's wide eyes form streams of regret.

"Ha…ha. I never thought…this would befall me again. Tim…I'm so sorry."

 _Tim_?

Lovino grabbed the body of his lover, the sirens of the ambulances unable to die out his scream of despair.

Dear lord above, please don't let me be the one that killed Antonio.


	14. Chapter 5 (Gerita)

_GerIta_

Completed.

Now everyone was happy.

Now everyone was outside or inside.

Somehow people were already in the hospital, and the Belarusian outside was staring inside like there was some forbidden prize, and after Romano stabbed Antonio, the cast was complete.

Ludwig surveyed the ICU room and the mass group of people that stood before it.

The Polish and the Lithuanian had arrived long before the majority, and were talking to (or at least one of them was—the other was quivering) to the Russian that guarded the Chinese's pale body, lying amongst the white sheets and white pillows.

Feliciano had said Yao looked like a ghost.

The Greek and the Japanese had arrived moments before the group to let Ivan take a break, but the Russian refused to leave his spot.

Ever since the Spanish was brought out of the ER, the Italian (mind you, the _southern_ one) had clung on his body and refused to talk, eat, or sleep. He just grabbed Antonio's hands and muttered his name over and over again.

The loud, obnoxious American had inspected every inch of the British (quietly, for a nice change) to make sure he wasn't hurt, then had taken Arthur's hand and guided him to the restroom. Ludwig could only _imagine_ what they were doing in there for so long. The Hungarian had gone inside to check on them, only to return and grab the Japanese's hand and pull him into the bathroom, screaming something that sounded like, "Yeah oh e!"

Which doesn't make any _sense_. At all.

The French and the Canadian had taken their leave and Francis could be heard whispering something to soothe Matthew. Then someone had fallen to the ground and Matthew could be seen rounding the corner, eyes tearing up like streams of river. He shot past the people that stood around idly in the hallways.

The Prussian and the Austrian were talking to each other, the Prussian doing most of the talking and the Austrian doing most of the listening. Roderich seemed, however, to not want to talk to Gilbert, who had to grab Roderich's shoulder every time he turned around (a.k.a every ten seconds).

"Hey, Luddy! Where's the restroom?"

"It's the direction of retreat."

"Okay!" Feliciano gave Ludwig a short "Ve~" then ran south away from them.

"Is that, like, some kind of secret language you guys have? Dang, that's like, so cool! Totes, Toris, we should have one too!" Feliks interrupted, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Uh, no, "Ludwig said, "it's because he can't understand it any other way."

"Oh."

"He doesn't know what's left and right. I figured that out when I told him to make a circle, and remember to take the fork at the crossroads on the left, and he ended up somewhere in Romania, because he thought _right_ was _left_."

"When was this?" Toris asked.

"Before we started dating. When WWII was going on." Ludwig frowned, unwilling to bring up the topic he was so sore about.

"Yes, like, that is totes sweet! Toris, we should, like, totes make our own secret language like that!"

"You know how to tell between your left and right, Feliks," Toris sighed, trying to hide his blush. _Secret language, huh? Between cute, lovey-dovey couples, huh? Between me and Feliks—no! Me and Natalya…yeah…_

Right?

Ludwig's eyes drifted away from the talking Polish and the blushing Lithuanian.

Why is it taking Feli so long?

"Feli? Are you still in the restrooms?" Ludwig called out. He heard sobbing emitting from one of the stalls, and immediately burst into the room. The crying abruptly stopped and Feliciano's small head poked out from the center stall.

"Hey, Luddy. Sorry…I was just…I don't know. What if they don't make it? What if Yao and Antonio die? _Fratello_ would never forgive himself! And Ivan would be so much more unhappy…What if, Luddy? Would anyone want to come to our wedding then? Would _we_ be in the mood for celebrating our own wedding?"

Ludwig approached the slightly ajar door and opened it gently, but the Italian quickly closed it tight.

"No! I don't want you to see me like this!"

Ludwig groaned and swung his arm around twice. He bent his neck once to the left, once to the right, and cracked his knuckles.

"Back up."

"Wait, Luddy…!"

Ludwig Beilschmidt burst through the stall door, ripping it off his hinges. Feliciano had collapsed inside, his amber eyes open in shock.

"On your feet, right now!"

"Y-Yes Sir!" the Italian squeaked, looking absolutely petrified.

"Number one, we shall not cancel our wedding even if people with guns burst into our room the night before and threaten us! Number two, the Chinese and the Spanish is _not_ going to die! Number three, get your wits together and _smile_!"

"Yes Sir!"

Feliciano's bright smile returned to his face, the colors of roses painting the white canvas of his cheeks red again.

"No! What are you doing with my _fratello,_ you potato bastard?"

Ludwig turned around to see the entire cast (missing the Nordics, of course) staring at him at Feliciano.

And it sure wasn't awkward that Arthur and Alfred came out of the next stall _together_.

 **I forgot the A/N last chapter...hmmm...I've been kinda lazy and the updates are killing me. I might go from three chapters down to two...**

 **Puppet Painter**


	15. Chapter 5 (USUK)

_USUK_

Alfred did the first thing that came to mind.

"Dude, are you serious? Man, you're really anxious to get married!"

From the door, Romano screamed again, "You Potato Bastard!" and had to get pulled back by Elizaveta and Gilbert.

Alfred noticed (which was stunning) that the Austrian standing next to the Polish and the Lithuanian didn't look quite happy. Yeah, cause, shocker, the girl was the one that had cheated his boyfriend (?) away from him. Didn't take long for a detail-notice-r like Roderich to figure out who the "Veta" in question was.

'Cause it totally couldn't have been Eliza _veta_ Hedervary.

"Why are you here?" Ludwig asked to Romano. Feliciano's _fratello_ stopped waving his fist and cussing like a sailor and shut up. For once.

 _Surprising_.

"The nurses told him that his negative mood was affecting the patient in resting. They thought that he was bothering—"

"Those nurses know _shit_! I should call the entire Italian mafia and _set_ it on them!" the Italian shrieked. Alfred covered his ears, and eyed Arthur who frowned deeply next to him. Arthur opened his mouth.

"Where's the Russian?"

"Ivan?" Toris asked.

"Yes. Is there another Russian amongst our midst?"

" _Angleterre_ , Ivan is still watching Yao. His heart had started to beat quite erratically a couple minutes ago."

"Yeah? What about my brother?" Alfred asked, glaring at the Frenchman. "Have you found him yet? He's probably in the next stall over."

"I know he is, _Amerique_. Gentlemen do not nag the person they love. Of course, _you_ wouldn't know, because you got _Angleterre_ within your grasp by being ignorant. How would _you_ know?"

"Dude, you wanna fight?" Alfred asked, fists rolled. The French rolled his eyes and started peeling off his jacket.

"Alfred!" Arthur shouted, then stepped between the two.

"That's not the deal. We need to go back and check on the two of them. Romano, if you would please keep down the volume and the cussing, please?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Scone Bastard."

"What'd you say?" Alfred demanded.

"What, you want to fight? I haven't hit anyone in a couple of days, Hamburger Bastard!" Romano replied. Over the years, the Italian had indeed increased in power, even if was still weak compared to America, but compared to his younger brother…

That was a different topic.

Alfred clenched Arthur's hand. Something was gnawing at the inside of his heart, dangerously, negatively, and the bitter coldness wasn't helping. He felt someone call help (of course, Alfred _always_ hears people say help, 'cause he's the _hero_!) and immediately thought back to the Chinese.

"What color were Ivan's eyes?"

"Purple. Duh."

"Dark or light?"

"Uh…kind of, like, somewhere between night purple and, like, royal purple."

Alfred's eyes widened.

"C'mon. These dudes don't seem to care about who's gonna die and who's not, so I guess we just gonna go and do whatever they aren't doing."

"Alfred…"

The sunshine of Arthur's life had dimmed respectively and was now showing why exactly he was nominated as the world's " _fist_ ".

Pushing through the crowds and ignoring Romano's insults, Alfred walked into the ICU and watched the lone back of Ivan Braginsky get darker with every minute. A dark aura was developing around him.

"Kolkolkol…I want my panda bear, da?" the Russian whispered, and as he stretched his hands out to grasp Yao's breathing mask, he was shoved backwards by a force. Alfred's eyes bored into his, a warning etched within the sky-blue pupils that had now turned into ocean-blue. Arthur gulped.

"Keep your hands off of him."

"Alfred? What are you doing here, da?"

Arthur noticed that the dark-violet pupils had returned to their normal bright lavender-purple.

"Are you okay, Ivan?"

The Russian's face darkened. His eyes narrowed and the dark aura started to build up around him again. But this time, he seemed to be sad rather than…well, Alfred would say _psycho_. Like that guy who had the chainsaw in one of his movies…

Black Friday?

No, that's not the one.

Right.

Motel Hell. Or was it Chainsaw Sally? No, no, it was um…the cartoonish one, the Pieces? No, that's not right. Uh…say The Last House on the Left?

No.

The Collector.

There we go.

Alfred smiled grudgingly, pleased with himself. Then it occurred to him that the guy in that movie didn't exactly wield a chainsaw.

"Alfred. Alfred? Alfred!" Arthur shouted, snapping the American back into reality. The British was shaking Alfred so hard his glasses almost came off.

"Yes? No, I mean, what is it? No—"

"Please get Ivan to _stop_."

 **Cliffhanger! Lovino did get more powerful (because I want him to-ovo). I forgot to mention it, and I bet some of you really** ** _smart_** **people noticed that Lovino keeps on getting his name switched back and forth whereas everyone else is just referred by their human name. That's because for people like *cough* Francis and Alfred *cough* Lovino isn't typically that close with them and so they address him as Romano. Especially because of the cussing issue.**

 **Yeah, so keep favorite/following and I'll be reading all the reviews with great appreciation! Thanks guys!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. The weather here is making my hands freeze and I can barely type 30 words with two hands...**


	16. Chapter 5 (DenNor)

_DenNor_

The Danish watched as Lukas tracked around in the snow.

Yesterday it was blazing hell up here. Today, it was pouring snow like common rain. Mathias really didn't understand how it worked up here.

The temperature surely wasn't like _that_ down there in Denmark. Nor was it in Norway (Haha, get it? No, it's okay. I don't either), where he liked to go and visit (Lukas tends to call it "trespassing") his lovely stoic brother.

Yeah, because he felt quite welcome each time.

No, really.

Lukas never chased him out, just merely let him stay in the guest bedroom for as long as he liked. Mathias was more or less attracted to the _master_ bedroom's bed (and shower) though, so three out of his five-day regular stay, Lukas would find Mathias sleeping on his bed. And yes, it did annoy him.

Like _hell_.

But the idiot just can't seem to place his feeling in line for him.

What does Lukas feel?

Something stirs inside of him, but Lukas doesn't really understand the feeling. It hurts, and it feels like it wants to burst out.

"Goodness, Lukas, why can't you just move your lazy butt once in a while? Is it really that damn hard to move?" Mathias' voice rings out. Lukas pounds his fist on the area encasing his heart, determined to stop being the stupid weakling he was proving himself to be right now. Mathias didn't seem quite the one to care.

"Yeah, if you'd move _your_ lazy ass sometime too," Lukas retorted gazing over to the left where Mathias sat.

"You've been standing there in the same spot for over three minutes. You're not shivering, and your teeth aren't chattering. How are you doing it?" Mathias asked, pulling the heater closer to him.

"Mathias, I have a question for you," the Norwegian said, ignoring Mathias' question.

"Yeah? What is it?" The Dutchman suddenly looked a lot more interested than he was before, eyes glistening in excitement. It wasn't very often that Lukas asked him things. Most of the time, the only question he ever received from Lukas was, "Do you _ever_ shut up?"

Lukas fumbled around with his fingers.

They were pale and cold. Which is pretty much what Lukas was at the moment.

Swallowing, Lukas managed, "Do y-you like an-anyone?"

Mathias leaned forward.

"Seriously? Since when were you so into personal information? Wait, wait!' Lukas grabbed the leaving person's hand. "I still haven't answered you, Lukas."

"So?"

Mathias blushed.

"Umm…" For the first time in forever, Lukas saw Mathias unable to form words.

"Yes?"

"Maybe…" Mathias muttered, twisting his head away. However, his hand was still gripping Lukas' wrist, and from where he touched, Lukas felt a burn like hot iron pressed onto his skin.

"You two!" they heard Toni shout in the distance.

"What?" Lukas snapped, unhappy that Toni had ruined their…what? Moment? That seemed weird…but it seemed to be the right description.

"Can you run to the store and—oh. Sorry for interrupting you two. Just get me another bottle of glue, can you please? Peter accidentally wasted the last one."

"How?" Lukas and Mathias said simultaneously. Toni rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

"He tripped on the stairs and fell on his face, knocking the table over. Then when he got up he slid on one of the scrolls, tripping over again and hitting his knee on the table leg. When he got up and ran to me, he tripped over his own _feet_ , can you believe it, and hit the floor where the glue lay, squirting it everywhere. Good thing none of the displays were around him."

"Is he okay then?" Mathias asked, much more concerned about his nephew than about the disarranged material they'd have to take care of later.

"Fine. Kid's got a head like metal."

"Mom!" Peter's voice rang out, and he pushed Lukas against Mathias as he charged towards Toni, Berwald behind him, with a bottle in his hand.

"Peter?"

"Dad came and helped me buy a new bottle of glue! I'm so sorry!" Peter apologized, handing over the glue to his mother, who took it and turned around to Lukas and Mathias.

He stopped.

"Uh…I don't think you need to buy the glue then," he smiled, then quickly grabbed his husband and son's hands. "Peter, Berwald…I think they need some time to themselves. Let's go in and finish planning what food is going to be served."

Lukas stared as the three walked away, then attempted to push the heavy head that belonged to Mathias off his chest. Both got up, face red and embarrassed.

"So, when are you going to answer my question?" Mathias finally said.

"Which one?"

"How are you not shivering while standing like that in the snow? Not moving, just gazing out absent-mindedly in the distance?"

Lukas gave a rare smile.

"I don't know. Because I don't feel cold? In the inside."

 **Hey guysssss! I'm on vacation, and it kind of is (or isn't) colder here...like the DenNor? Goodness, when will the two get together? IDK (JKJK).**

 **Early early update...*yawnnnn* Valentine Special coming up soonnnnnnn...(I guesssss?)**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. Continue to fav/follow and review plsssss!?**


	17. Valentine's Special Edition (Part I)

_USUK_

 ***When America and England had just started to date**

"Uh…America? Can you please get up off of me?"

America looked back at his lover, shifting his head around in England's lap more. He enjoyed seeing the red in England's cheeks deepen in color, and snickered to himself. Boy, did he have to thank Tony for this one. If the alien didn't happen to "accidentally" create a coffee machine that spurted tea out, England would've never came over, would've never drank the "tea" that "accidentally" had hints of alcohol in it (Yeah, like what? America didn't know how _that_ happened _at all_ -v-)

"America! There's a meeting in half-an-hour! What do you _think_ you're doing? Get up, get _up_!"

"Hey, Iggy. I was wondering if you would ever mind me asking you out for a date? In the open. We could skip the World Meeting today~ I'm sure you wouldn't want to go anyways if you only fight the other old dude, right man? C'mon, let's go sightseeing!"

"No! America, I—"

"First stop, Maine! Do you like moose? I do, haha!"

England blushed furiously when he got a call from Germany that demanded where they were and America answered back that they were, "Getting kisses from moose and a lover that can't stop loving Iggy".

Later that day, _much_ later, after crossing the entire country, seeing the White House, Statue of Liberty, Liberty Bell (England liked that one the most, wonder why), and the Empire State Building, America took England to the casinos of Las Vegas.

"Let's see how much I make, haha! The money goes to how expensive the meal is going to be tonight!" America ran off alone into the crowds, and immediately the English man felt alone, completely foreign. He hadn't noticed it before, but when the American was around him, he had no problem talking with others. Yet now he was gone, America that git, had bloody left him hell alone…

"Hey there. You look like you need some help," a girl dressed in very open clothes whispered in his right ear.

"Wha—?" Before England could react, the girl had already gotten into his personal bubble, and England didn't appreciate it. He couldn't look _anywhere_ without noticing the girl's gigantic chest.

"Miss, I—"

"Hey Caroline!" a girl's voice called out. That's a new face there. No doubt Boss brought you here, huh?"

"Boss? What do you mean?"

The newcomer laughed, somewhat like America.

"Of course, you're a newcomer. You don't know the rules, do you? Everyone that comes in here is expected to come to the Boss and kiss his hand. You don't even know that, so you obviously can't have been introduced, much less a regular. Boss must've brought you here then!"

"So who's the Boss?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, England caught a bit of commotion as a loudspeaker suddenly announced that the ritual was about to begin.

"What ritual?" England asked, dumbfounded. "Is it magic?"

"Haha! You're so funny!" England decided he didn't like the two girls. "No, it's the kissing ritual the one I just told you about."

England saw America then, grinning like a madman. He tossed a pair of dice up into the air, and all the heads that were in the casino followed the two figures up into the air.

"…7!"

Immediately people started to drop to their knees, and England stood bewildered as America smirked. Random people started to approach his love, and stirring inside England, fury and confusion started to mix themselves in a concoction of embarrassment.

"…May the people with a multiple of seven approach the Boss now."

England assumed it had something to do with the number they had got when they entered the room.

After everyone had taken their turn, the American stood up and made his announcement.

"How lucky? My boss is here too, and I just so happened to get the number 497!" America shouted. People's heads started turning, searching for the Boss' boss. Surely America hasn't become completely insane yet, right?

"My lover for life…England, Great Britain. Happy Valentine's Day!"

And with that final note, showers of heart-shaped chocolate started to pool out of the lottery machines, and England gasped at America pressed his lips onto the other nation's.

"What do you think? Was it worth skipping the World Meeting?" America asked seductively.

England only replied with his head buried in the American's shirt.

"Bloody fool."

 _PruAus_

 *** Before Prussia had cheated on Austria with Hungary**

"We'll be together forever, right? Kesese, the awesome me will fill up all the un-awesomeness you're missing out on! Kesesese!"

Austria smiled as his fingers slid across the surface of the ivory keyboards. The expensive instrument responded to his calling with notes of heavenly music. The sounds of the piano echoed around the room, covering even the slight sounds of the door opening.

Prussia poked his head around into the room, his ruby eyes glowing in the dark, surveying the place where he knew Austria would be sitting at.

The white curtains bellowing out behind him, the nation was really baffled by the wonderous sight. The moonlight casting grand shadows across the ground, the wind blowing through the ruffled, red-brown hair, the glasses taken off, revealing closed, tired eyes that rested above a fair, high nose, of which was above a mouth that only smiled in the face of music.

Prussia gulped as his felt something grow in his pants, and he felt the heat grow in his face.

The Austrian was still unaware of the intruder, still engaged within the music that was flowing through his fingers. Each note corresponded perfectly with the one before it.

"Hey," the Prussian finally said.

The final piece ended off-key, a strange chord symbolling Austria's surprise at his visitor.

"When were you here?"

"Ever since you got to around the fifth line or so of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, 1st movement. Somewhere like that, I suppose. I don't really count. The second movement was a little too dull for you though, I bet you could've done better."

"Nice of you to notice, your concert last night had practically a _soul_ in it at all!" Austria retorted, rolling his eyes. He looked around the room for the albino, but couldn't see white at all.

"Where are you looking at?"

Sliding his arms around Austria's waist, Prussia pulled the nobleman into his embrace, licking the man's ear.

"Gah! Prussia!"

"Shh…we've still got an entire night to go…"

\- bunch of info skipped over -

"Hey, that was good, huh? The awesome me is so awesome, right?"

"Yeah, whatever." Austria put his glasses on, only to get them taken off again my Prussia, who pulled him back onto the bed.

"Austria, haven't you ever wondered why we got together?"

"No, I haven't, actually."

"Don't you want to wonder with the awesome me?"

"No, not that much."

"Why not? The awesome me supposes that I got attracted to you when France had tricked you into showing that body of yours! And that saying! The one that proposes why we got together would be the saying 'opposites attract', kesesese!"

Austria pondered over that statement.

"Perhaps. It would make sense, wouldn't it? But I think it's rather interesting how you would know it with your dimwitted brain."

Prussia snaked an arm over the Austrian's body. Austria didn't bother to push it off this time, much to the Prussian's surprise. Prussia took this as a hint that he was welcome to do his bit now.

"Wait! What are you—!"

Prussia laughed, muttering quietly into Austria's ear, "The day is still long too, and you have to spend it with the awesome me, kesesese!"

 _Franada_

 ***Long, long ago, when Canada was still a colony of France**

France had taken notice of his quiet little baby long ago. He had beautiful blue eyes, and that hair was quite similar to hers. Even his personality, just a bit.

Joan of Arc, the Orléans girl.

Francis remembered trying to find another like her for such a long time, the quiet fire burning within the peaceful appearance. They called it the _soft fury_ or _fire and water_. Like metal, like air. Easily bent, yet not easily destroyed. After he had failed in rescuing her, he had never been able to detect the words "true-love" again. Not yet, at least.

England always told him that he was a pervert, and he'd never be able to find true love.

Ah, how that beating felt when England had realized that was one thing he was wrong about France.

It felt good.

Of course, the after effect of the furious Englishman was a completely different subject of matter, as the fighting that took place was _obviously_ one-sided. America and Russia shouldn't be allowed to fight on the same side.

"Papa?" Canada called, waving his small hand in the air.

"Yes, _mon cher_?" France walked over to his cute little boy, lifting the small figure out of the snow and into the air.

 _Pow!_

France received a snowball in the face, and the little boy laughed as the older man scraped the white stuff off of his face.

"Not funny," France growled, "come back here!"

"Wah! Haha!" Canada took this as a hint to run and leave, and the two chased each other around in the snow. France couldn't remember the last time he had been so happy. No, it probably never occurred after she died…had it? It was such a long time ago…

"Papa? Papa, do you not want to play anymore?" Canada's sweet voice jerked the French out of his trance. His blue eyes settled on Canada's violet ones, the child's ski-mask covering up half of his face. The child grinned innocently and plucked a flower that matched his eyes out of the snow.

"Canadia…"

"Yes?"

"You're so _cute_!"

France tackled the tiny figure, sending the tiny little boy squealing in excitement and trying to get away from the freezing hands that was searching for a warm place to intrude into.

Canada rolled around in the snow until his head hit something hard.

"Ow! Papa! It hurts so bad!"

"What is it? What happened, Canadia? Are you okay? _Mon cher_ , darling, what happened? Did you… _bonte_ , you can't be serious…"

"Papa, Papa…ow!"

"What'd you do, you bloody git?" England's voice called. France turned around, began to run, tears falling down his face involuntarily.

"Call an ambulance! Canadia's hurt!"

"What?"

"Git!"

"…Papa!"

This was the first time France had placed a kiss on the tiny boy he held so dear. The kiss was unlike any he had given before, only once had it been given, a kiss of adoration and love so deep in the heart, not only of sexual desires.

Canada closed his eyes, the blood trickling down through his blonde hair and sliding past his closed eyelid, but that didn't matter.

His focus was on the lips that were pressed on his own eyelid, the warmth slowly spreading throughout the tiny child's body.

"Shh, _mon cher_ , you'll always be under my protection. I'll never leave you…"

 _Rochu_

 ***During the years of Russia's growth**

"You've grown really tall, aru!"

"I have, da? China has become so short now! I can hug you, da?" Russia looked down at the Oriental beauty that had used to hold him when he was still just a child.

China blushed furiously, lifting his head up at the tall Russian. He couldn't believe it. Only a hundred years before (it seemed like only two or three) he had held Russia in his arms and cuddled with him to sleep. The Russian used to be even smaller than Panda! Russia and Panda used to fight over who got to sit in the back of his bamboo basket—yet now…now Russia could easily hold China in his arms!

"China? Do you like sunflowers? If China likes sunflower, then Russia will go find them, da? Wait here!"

The big child ran off, his scarf floating in the wind. China smiled warmly, watching as Russia ran off into the sunflower fields. Russia was so innocent, so pure…everyone thought he was scary, including China, but that's only because they don't know him well. After China knew Russia better, Russia became his second "bear" that he could hold.

Russia was just like a great big teddy bear.

"Is this one okay? This one is big, da?" Russia announced, climbing out of the flower fields and holding out a yellow flower towards China.

"It _is_ really big, aru! Where did you find it?" China took the giant flower. The flower, not including the stem, was bigger than his face, the petals extending out. The stem reached China's knees.

"China give me a kiss, da?"

"No, aru! You're too big for it!"

"Then I give China a kiss, da?"

China watched, stunned, as Russia placed a kiss on China's cheek. A red blush quickly spread over the nation's face. China was _so_ glad his boss wasn't here. If his boss was here… He'd be _dead._ China would _die_ of embarrassment. And America spreading the news on YouTube, England blabbering on BBC, Japan on his stupid websites of…he called it BL.

They weren't helping at _all_!

 _Since when had he developed such feeling for him…?_

China didn't know. He didn't exactly want to think, what the outcomes would be, what the results would be, what would happen in the end. He just wanted to sink deeper and deeper until there was no road left to go…

"China? Are you okay?"

"Uh…Russia! Please…help me! Take me to the hospital…"

"China!"

"China!"

"China!" This time, it was the voice of his boss, and not the childish voice of Russia. China snapped awake, unaware of the fact that there were tubes and syringes plunged in his body.

"Ah! _Tong_ , aru!"

"Of course it _tong_ , you're not supposed to move around with so many syringes embedded in your skin. You know acupuncture! One tiny little shift in the vein might cause your patient to become cripple—even worse, _die_ So now imagine thicker needles! _Tong_? You should be happy that you didn't just have new problems!"

"Where's Russia?' China asked.

"Lie down! Tsk, tsk, China, China! Worry about yourself!"

"Boss!"

"He left already! Now lie down and be a good patient already." China's boss took his seat, completely ignoring the nation now. It wasn't like it mattered anymore. China just had to know that Russia wasn't going to be punished for China's problems.

Years later, when China had been announced to be ill, Russia was the first to come and see him.

When China was announced to have political issues within, Russia was the first to come and help him resolve them.

When China become economically problematic, Russia was to first to run over to join him in fixing the problems.

No matter what, Russia was always there for China, and wherever China needed help, Russia was always the first to come to his aid. But the truth was, ever since that day two hundred years ago, China was never able to look at Russia again with the same eyes, and Russia was unable to look at China too. They loved each other, spinning in the same circle, walking around again and again, unable to stop, unable to proclaim to the other their feelings.

For China had made a promise, that he would never love the Russian back. He couldn't be so selfish, to ruin the innocence of the little boy he held so dear.

It just wasn't known to him that his "little boy" had already gotten his innocence ruined.

But China wasn't the one that did it.

And as for Russia, he had sworn that he would never hurt China again like he did. To this day, he could never forgive himself for what he did.

To others, he hadn't done _anything_ at all, but Russia knew what he did.

The flower he had presented to China, the petals of the sunflower were covered in poison.

The two couldn't stop walking in circles, one pursuing, the other running away, and when they stopped, the other would be the one chasing, and one would be the one escaping. Hurting and protecting, protecting and hurting, over and over, the cycle repeats, until many years later, when the circle begins to collapse.

 _Giripan_

 ***Years ago, when Japan and Greece had just gotten a bit more familiar with the other**

Japan was intrigued by the ancient nation from the very start.

Greece was about his age yes, and so it was very fascinating to him as he observed the ancient ruins of Athens. Scanning his black-brown pupils over the stones of time, he found himself relating—just a bit—to the nation.

Both were ancient, both had rebelled, both were once strong, leaving a legacy in their own hemisphere.

"Japan…come sleep with me," Greece mumbled. Japan lay down next to the sleeping nation, a slow red tint growing on his face. It had taken him quite a while to process what he was saying…

Hmm…

"Ah, Greece-san, don't you think we should start preparing for our conference later? Our bosses would be very mad…"

"No, it's okay. I want to sleep…are you a virgin?"

Japan jumped up, not sure whether he was surprised at the statement, offended by it, or just rather excited about talking about the topic. It wasn't one he was unfamiliar with, what with the manga he read and drew, but…

"Maybe…?" he replied shyly.

"Ah…I always thought Japan would be anything but a virgin. Your tentacle rape comics are the best! They're even better than Aphrodite coming down to earth! They're so open…"

Japan stared at the figure beside him, blinking rapidly.

"Me? But I look like I don't even know what—"

"Yes, yes, but your manga says otherwise. You seem like you know _exactly_ what sex is, right, Japan? So I was wondering if you weren't a virgin, what was your first experience like? Did you know all about sex already your first time? But it seems like you're still a virgin, so I guess…oh, never mind, sorry…"

Greece sat up too, his amber eyes meeting up with Japan's black-brown ones.

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

"Ha—Ha?!"

Japan backed up, unsure of what to say. Sure, in his multiple sex comics, people had asked this kind of question, the guy asking the girl "Do you want to have sex with me?" but in real life…? He never thought that it would befall him too. This was impossible!

"You didn't hear? Oh…I asked if you wanted to—"

"No, no! Greece-san, I heard you very clearly! That is why I am having problems…"

"Japan!"

"Hai!"

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

Japan gulped as Greece started to approach him, traces of sleepiness completely gone from his face. The Mediterranean nation slammed his hand on the wall, closing the distance in between the Asian and the European.

"Ch-Chuotoumadei…please wait a moment, Greece-san…"

"Yes? Okay, would you rather to prefer to do it inside or outside? Some people like to have sex outside, and some people want to have it inside." Greece smiled wickedly, his brown eyes aglow.

"No, wait!"

Greece picked Japan up and carried him like a sack of potatoes. The Japanese uselessly pounded his fists on the Greek's back, shouting protests that were as useless as his pounding.

Greece dumped Japan on the bed, stripping as he did so. Japan quickly backed himself up into a corner of the bed. His eyes focused on the sight before him quite well though, and he found himself restraining to pull out his camera.

"G-Greece-san…?" japan asked timidly.

"Go on, take it out," Greece said, now officially nude. Japan stared at the man's muscular body, the eyes that showed wildness and beastly desires, and that monstrous _thing_ down there…no, he couldn't continue thinking about it!

"Now that we're equal, we'll just finish setting up your things…and we'll get started, how about it? Hmmm? I'll be _very_ gentle!"

Japan's eyes widened as he finally finished processing what the Greek wanted.

"Ah! Gr-Greece-san! Ah!"

-skipping through R18 scenes-

When Japan woke up the next morning, he finally figured out what China meant when he said, "My waist hurts, aru!"

It hurt like _hell_.

Japan punched the sleeping man next to him, who only shifted his leg and reached up, pulling the struggling Japanese man back into his embrace.

"Greece-san!"

 **That's the first part! First part! I can't get it done until probably later around Thursday morning, so I'm going to do an early early update! The pairings for this first one is USUK, PruAus, Franada, Rochu, and Giripan (in order)! It's supposed to go through the themes of (Date - Hug- Kiss - Promise - Sex) even though I skipped most of the "sex" part in Giripan (hehheh)**

 **Happy Valentine's Day! See you guys later!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	18. Valentine's Special Edition (Part II)

_DenNor_

 ***1st time the Danish and the Norwegian meets**

"These two are your younger brothers, Norway and Iceland. Say hi, Denmark." Sweden pushed the older boy forward, who stumbled and glared back at the stoic guy. The one named Iceland looked pretty cute, and definitely (Denmark bet) was weak. The other one though…he looked just as dead as Sweden does! And he doesn't look like he's easy to bully at all!

"Sweden! Why the heck did you bring me here for? Did Finland tell you to do this? 'Cause I'm telling you, this isn't funny at _all_! How the heck is these two my…"

"Brothers," the new boy said. He was the poker-faced one with a blue cross pinned on the left-side of his head.

"Have fun. That was from my wife."

"Your wife?" Denmark screeched. "How do I have a friend like _you_? This is hideous! I don't want two brothers!" The Swedish disappeared off into the distance, apparently off to meet his "wife". Norway wondered what it took for the two to accept the "wife and husband" roleplay.

"I don't want anything to do with you," Norway started off.

"Hmm. Like I do?"

Norway and Denmark glared at each other. The younger nation sighed exasperatedly. How could this older nation be so _childish_?

"Hey, Norway…"

"Yes, Iceland?" Norway immediately turned over and placed a hand on Iceland's forehead. The nation's skin was pale white, his breathing was ragged, and his temperature was ridiculously cold.

"Where's your house?" Norway demanded, shoving past the older nation and bride-style picking up his brother. Norway started to walk off.

"You should at least let me guide you rather than attempting to find it yourself," Denmark said, then took Iceland away from Norway's arms. "I'll help you. Don't worry—I won't drop him."

"You'd _better_ not," Norway growled. He wasn't sure what he felt of this "older brother" that popped out of nowhere. He was irresponsible, a jerk, impossibly stupid, looked like he deserves a punching, and was wickedly handsome. Norway didn't like admitting the last one. But it was true. And true things have to be noted.

Denmark kicked open the front door of his house. Norway looked at the broken door judgingly.

"You shouldn't treat furniture like that," he muttered as he trudged into the vast house of the Danish. Denmark either didn't hear him or didn't think he was worth the comment.

Somehow, Norway didn't like the second one more than the first.

"There's ice in the kitchen and there's some medicine that's in the birch cabinets. Not sure you want those, since I bought them the last time I got sick." Denmark made his way up the stairs, bringing Iceland up with him.

"Just how long was that?" Norway asked, tentatively reaching out for a jar.

"19th or 20th century."

"I see." Norway, who wasn't particularly surprised at much, was stunned quite by the Danish's health and how stupid he was. Medicine a hundred-years old is as good as poison! How awfully dull the guy that claimed to be "older brother" was…

Norway couldn't help but sigh.

Yet as he watched the back of the Danish disappear up the stairs, he knew his brother was in good hands. He was too.

Never reassured by anyone before, the thought that he could rely on someone stunned Norway.

"Hey, you found the ice yet?" Denmark shouted from above.

"Yeah. Shut up!" Norway replied, letting out a smile that he hadn't been able to manage in over two hundred years. Perhaps this laugh was just as long-awaited as the new medicine was in Denmark's cabinets.

 _SuFin_

 ***A year before Germany and Italy's wedding**

Sweden looked as Finland approached him.

"Wife?"

Finland smiled brightly. The sunlight shone across his hair, the glint dancing across into Sweden's glasses. The stoic (much like Norway) gave a rare smile. He found that he smiled a lot more often with his wife.

"Hey. Today's the wedding day. You know there's a superstition that if you see me today before the ceremony we wouldn't have a good wedding, right?"

Sweden nodded. However, that wasn't exactly the reason he came here for.

"Wife?" he asked again.

"I guess you don't exactly care, huh? Does my hair look good?" Finland walked over, lifting his wedding dress up so that he wouldn't step on it. Sweden couldn't help but blush. Goodness, his wife looked so damn _hot_! Poland had bought Finland the dress, and with the taste that the Polish had, well…the dress was _pretty_. It had white cloth roses on the sides, and there was a lace ribbon weaved amongst the flowers.

"Yeah. Wife…"

"Hmm?" Finland's name was called by Poland, who rushed out and started scolding him for moving. Returning to his original spot, Finland waved his husband over and told him to get a chair.

"I have to tell you something…"

"Tell him later!" the Polish shrieked. "I don't care as much as you don't make him move! Don't tell him anything that's going to make him move!"

"I bought a son on eBay."

"What?"

The Polish, Lithuanian, and Finish that was in the room jumped up at the same time. Finland's lipstick slid across his face in a nasty arch as the Polish fainted. The Lithuanian apologized for his behavior and quickly brought the Polish away. Finland was wide-eyed and held his composure much better than Poland. Sweden suspected that his wide had turned into stone.

"Wife?"

"Ha…ha. That was really funny, Sweden…"

"I'm not joking. I uh, know you really like kids by the way you take care of Iceland and Norway, so I went online and searched up 'kids'. I got a result for only $50 and the label was 'Sealand'."

Finland turned to his husband, a frozen smile on his face.

"Se—Sealand?" he gasped. That was _England's_ little brother!

"Yeah. So I guess the wedding is going to happen with us already having a child…" Sweden swallowed, afraid that Finland would be unhappy.

"What? Yes…that's _great_! Oh, Sweden, thank you _so_ much! I love you, I love you, I love you!"

Sweden was quite startled by his wife appearance as Finland's red smudged lips pressed onto his own, the kiss getting more and more hot as Finland demanded for entrance into Sweden's tongue. Yes, but the Swedish wasn't going to be the one that was submissive—he was going to dominant.

Flipping the Finish onto his back, Sweden pushed Finland against the wall and bit his wife's lips. The kiss went on for minutes, until finally the Polish regained conscious and screamed for Finland to come to him and reapply makeup.

As Finland was leaving, he turned back to his husband.

"Hey…will you ever regret marrying me?"

"Never."

Sweden gave a small smile, but that better than anything else he had ever presented in his life.

 _LatSea_

 ***Somewhere in the line of time before the main plot**

Latvia gazed out into the distance. Each time he looked into the sky, he thought of the blue eyes _he_ had. He thought of the blue outlines on the white sailor uniform _he_ always wore. And when he saw the floating clouds, he was reminded of the clothes, the skin, the bright teeth behind the red cherry lips. And the sun resembled his sunshine hair.

Sealand.

He was so damn _gorgeous_.

Latvia sighed again, closing his eyes and imagining the face that called his name and laughed brightly.

Sealand looked into the distance, hoping that he could catch sight of the small country. There was not a single piece of land in kilometers (or anywhere in sight), and there was definitely no way he was going to be able to get the wish he wished.

Those blue eyes, dirty blond hair, the adorable attitude that _he_ always had when talking to the smaller nation (who should technically be his older brother), those cheeks that flushed red each time Sealand said something about _him_ , the hand that flew to _his_ hair when the Sealander complemented him…

Sealand sighed.

His eyes wistfully gazed across the horizon of the water.

"Hey, Latvia!" Sealand shouted as the boy's head showed up within view. His metal island floated over towards Latvia. Jumping off from the platform, Sealand fell into the arms of Latvia.

Both's cheeks flushed.

"Hey Sealand." Latvia gently set Sealand down on the ground. Sealand laughed quietly, sneaking a glance at Latvia's face.

"Hey."

Neither of them knew what the other had in store for them, and neither was brave enough to confess their feelings toward the other. Well…at least not at the current moment. Perhaps in the future…

 **This one is so short (especially the LatSea) I am ashamed of myself. I'm so sorry! All this is so late and I'm totally not on time. I've been really slow lately with writer's block and all...sorry for keeping you guys waiting! I've still got a Part 3 coming up though! This one is in the order of Childhood - Marriage - Secret Love. I might call a break next week Monday...yeah...sorry!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia (decided I needed to put the disclaimer up again after 20 works)**


	19. Valentine's Special Edition (Part III)

_GerIta_

 ***Before Romano and Spain started dating**

Staring across the fancy table, Germany watched the Italian flutter around from table to table, sometimes stopping to pull his cussing brother away from customers, who frankly looked way to stunned to fight.

" _Fratello_! Stop interfering! That stupid Spaniard deserves a total _punching_! Did he just kiss my hand? Tell me he didn't!" Romano screamed across the entire restaurant. If Romano wasn't the main reason most people came to the restaurant, Germany wasn't exactly sure how the Italian was yet fired.

Romano probably had no idea about how freaking sexy he was when he bent himself over the tables to get dishes. Or when he got a red (like a tomato).

Of course, Germany was definitely much more interested in Italy's butt and face. They were a lot better than Romano's. And plus…he wasn't quite sure he could put up with the Southern Italian's attitude.

Germany sighed.

When would Italy finish his job?

Upon thought, he heard a "Ve~" right by his ear. He jumped at the sound and turned his head around to meet Italy's amber eyes.

"I'll be finishing up in just a little while, Doitsu~ Sorry, I have to get _fratello_ to stop trying to hit Spain. Boss is trying to talk Romano into having a better attitude, but it's not really working when Spain keeps on coming over and squeezing _fratello_ 's butt…"

Germany sighed again.

If Romano would stop being such a stuck-up, then life would be so much easier for him and Italy…of course, if Spain would keep his hands to himself or man-up too, life could also be made easier. Instead of trying to get close by "accidentally" tripping and grabbing Romano's butt and kissing him, he could just walk up and not be afraid of getting rejected.

Because the chances of him getting rejected now is about as high as it is ten, fifteen, twenty years later.

Ninety-nine-point nine percent.

France and Prussia weren't helping Spain correctly, either.

Germany was quite disappointed in how his brother was encouraging Spain to _wait_ and _hold it_. If Prussia had waited and held his feelings on for the Austrian, Austria would've gotten married.

Watching as Romano stormed away to apologize to Spain, Germany's eyes put themselves back to Italy. The box in his hand started to feel heavier and heavier.

"Hey Doitsu! I'm done for the day! Let's wait for _fratello_ though…Ve~"

Italy sighed as another crash came from the other side of the restaurant. Of course Romano couldn't keep himself out of trouble—neither could Spain, it seemed.

"Bastard! Keep your hands off of my—gah!" Romano's shriek sounded, and as Germany walked over with Italy to check on the two, they were stunned by the sight presented to them. Spain was lying on top of Romano, pressing their lips together in a firm kiss.

That wasn't the surprising part.

It was how Romano was quietly accepting the kiss and…kissing _back_?

" _Fratello?_ Ah…I think I shall go home with Doitsu first then! I'll leave you to Spain!" Italy pulled on Germany's hand and the two left despite of Romano's protests and screams.

Once outside, Germany observed the Italian's face. For the first time, he had a hard time telling whether Italy was happy or not. Italy actually seemed rather unfazed though.

"Isn't it weird?" Germany asked tentatively.

"Not really," Italy responded.

Germany's head turned at Italy's response.

"You knew?"

"Doitsu, I've been so worried that _fratello_ and Spain wouldn't get together, do you know? _Fratello_ is always calling 'Spain, Spain…' in his sleep. What if Spain doesn't like him, I kept on thinking about it, I was so worried…but now…"

"They're together. They're fine." Germany smiled at his little Italian, who beamed up at him with his usual smile.

"Ve~"

"Italy…I have to ask you something…"

Italy tilted his head, puzzled by why Germany was stammering. Germany, on the other hand, looked like he was going to faint from embarrassment.

"Uh…do you like children?"

Italy laughed.

"Of course! I love children, ve~"

"Then…will you want children of your own?" Germany asked. Italy nodded again, quite oblivious that Germany was now fiddling with his own hands.

"Uh…will you marry me then?" Germany asked. Italy stopped smiling.

"What?"

"Uh…if you don't want to, I totally understand, I just—"

"Wah! Doitsu! I love you, I've been waiting forever, don't you know? I was so scared that I had to ask you if you wanted to marry me!"

Germany smiled as his eyes widened at the realization of what Italy had said. It was a yes, a _yes_! Italy was going to marry him. Germany couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"Ich liebe dich…" Germany muttered as, "Ti amo~ ve~" escaped Italy's lips.

Germany smiled. Now if only Spain and Romano could get there too…

 _Spamano_

 ***Right after Romano has been returned to Italy**

Romano has been secretly watching the Spaniard for a such a long time he couldn't even count the days anymore. Actually, he sort of was still in count. It had only been 62 years, 9 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days. And 17 hours.

Ever since Spain had released him back to his brother, Romano had been quite sullen, sitting in the house more often than not, and the main thing was that he found himself picking fights with Spain more and more often in the restaurant. The first time he saw Spain come to the restaurant, he was stunned, but after the sexual harassment started…

Oh, that was _totally_ a different topic.

Spain would come in every other day, and when Romano asked to switch out during those days, the Boss had told him, "Then you can work 24-hours of the other ones". Romano didn't feel like working 24-hours in a row—and plus, who was to say that Spain wouldn't suddenly move over into the new schedule?

" _Mi amigo_ , you look quite troubled…" Romano heard a familiar Spanish accent drift over from the table where he knew France was sitting at.

He heard France sigh.

He heard Spain speak in half English, half Spanish to the French.

He heard himself build up envy in his chest as he saw Spain lean over and hug France. It was a normal friendly, comforting hug, but of course Romano didn't like that.

"Tomato bastard! If you have to get all gay, get yourself a boyfriend outside of this restaurant!" Romano blurted out. Eyes turned onto Spain and France, and Spain waved awkwardly.

That was the first time Spain had sent Romano such a deadly look.

"Romano. If you don't know what you're talking about, shut the f*ck up and do your job." Spain shoved France away and came towards Romano. "If you f*cking can't tell the difference between my relationship with you and with France…!"

Romano backed up slowly. He felt tears come to his eyes.

Damn.

No.

He can't cry.

He can't admit how jealous he is of France and Spain, he can't admit how he wants Spain to hug him like he did to France, he can't admit how his heart feels like it had just shattered and fell into pieces…

" _Fratello_! Tell Boss I took the day off!" Romano screamed and ran out of the diner.

France stared at the opened door. Then he stared at Spain.

"You better go chase him," he said.

"Yeah." Spain looked stunned. He hadn't expected Romano to take it that poorly. He'd though Romano would scream at him, maybe even punch him in the face…definitely _not_ run out the door like a hurt goddess.

"Romano!" Spain screamed, running down the street after Romano. At this point Romano had run out of energy, but Spain had just started his chase.

"Shut up, bastard!" Romano dashed into an alley, pushing past a gang of boys that cussed and swore at Romano. Spain followed him instead, secretly hoping that it would be a dead end. He was lucky.

Romano stopped, looking around wildly as he measured up the three feet wall. Chances that he would make it up and over were close to zero.

"Romano!" Spain's voice came up behind him.

Romano didn't think then. He backed up as Spain's footsteps indicated how near he was to him. Romano took in a deep breath, and sized up the wall again. He thought silently to himself, _Romano, you are_ so _dead._

And then he charged towards the wall.

Only that he never got there.

"Romano! I love you! I don't want to ever have you leave me, okay? I'm sorry I got really mad at you, I just didn't like it how you doubted me… _mi tomate_ , can you please forgive me?" Spain blurted out right next to Romano's ear.

Romano's ears grew hot, and as tears and snot were wiped onto Spain's shirt, he mumbled a quiet "yes".

From that day on, no matter _what_ happened, the two of them were completely unable to see apart.

 _LietPol_

 ***When Lithuania still liked Belarus; before Sweden and Finland's wedding**

"Like, totes you can't possibly mean it!" Poland cried, twisting his fingers. He was so engaged in the conversation he couldn't hear Lithuania come around the corner.

"What is it?" Lithuania asked, coming up behind his friend. Poland spun around, Lithuania almost seeing the stars in his best friend's eyes shooting everywhere as he danced around like the Sugar Plum Fairy.

"They're getting _m-arr-ied_!" Poland sang. He twirled around and held out his arm like there was someone lying there.

"Who?" Lithuania asked.

"Finland!"

Lithuania rolled his eyes. Didn't Poland know? It had been sent in the emails to the Bosses…

Right.

Poland's Boss was in the hospital ever since he had eaten the food England and Poland cooked. Lithuania wasn't exactly sure what the two of them had put in there…he wasn't sure he'd like to know either.

"That's great!" Lithuania faked, pretending like he had also just learned the news.

"I need to tell everyone!" Poland screamed, prepared to run off. Lithuania decided this was when he needed to step up.

"Hey, I—"

Poland crashed right into him.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!"

Lithuania met Poland's green eyes.

This was the first time Poland felt his heart thump like crazy. When he met Lithuania's emerald eyes, he felt his stomach leap into his mouth. He wasn't sure of why…what…

"I…uh…I'm going to go—!"

"No! I mean…Poland, everyone else already knows." Lithuania looked guilty as he spilled the truth out. But at this point the Polish was so deep in the routine of _Do I love him, do I not; Do I love him, do I not…_ that he was in no mood to be unhappy of any sort.

Lithuania was stunned.

What had Poland so occupied he wasn't getting all dramatic?

He had no idea it was him.

From that day on, Poland could never see Lithuania clearly without wishing so deeply that Lithuania liked Poland.

So when Lithuania had told Poland he liked Belarus, it had completely shattered the Polish's heart. But some things are meant to be kept secret and if not, it would only end up worse than better.

 **Yeah, yeah...I** ** _know_** **I got lazy! I'm terribly sorry! The order for this one is Proposal - Confession - Unpure Friendship. I know that it was like...four days late. I'm sorry. Normal update tmrw (I hope). Chapter Six coming up! The story is starting to get into the climax and the resolution for some plots.**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **Keep on review and favorite/follow!**


	20. Chapter 6 (PruAus)

_PruAus_

Gilbert kept on staring at Roderich.

The Austrian seemed to be very gloomy.

No, not _seemed_ ; rather, 'proved'.

Roderich Edelstein proved himself to be very gloomy. He refused to talk to Gilbert, and the three times Gilbert had walked himself over to the Edelstein's house, Roderich refused to come down the stairs even though his parents had let Gilbert in.

And now he was talking with the Swiss guy instead of the awesome him?

Gilbert was _very_ unpleased.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but the awesome me just—"

"Let's go somewhere else. Or, actually, if you wouldn't mind, I have to sort some things out with Ludwig and Alfred about the situation."

Gilbert gritted his teeth. His eyes glowed dangerously red.

"Roderich…"

"I'm neutral in this, and I don't want to side, but I have to state that even though Roderich is acting like a complete bitch right now, you were the one that was being a bastard. I don't know how you plan on making this up to him, but something had better happen or…well, I'm not sure Roderich would take it nicely."

Gilbert gawked at the Swiss who calmly walked off to talk to his sister.

"…shall get the fees and the papers done. People that want to go home now can go home. I know that some of you have other matters to deal with," Gilbert heard Roderich say. "I will stay to make sure Ivan and Yao don't have any more incidents."

Yes, Ivan had gone crazy some time ago, ripping off Yao's breathing mask and kissing him, hugging Yao in his embrace and refusing to let go, whispering over and over, "Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me…"

It had scared the crap out of the nurses and Arthur.

Alfred had tried punching, hitting, threatening, begging, even pouting cutely (imagine, haha, Gilbert would've thrown up if Alfred did that to _him_ ), to which none worked.

Only when Yao had brushed the tips of his fingers across the Russian's face and murmured two words Chinese words had Ivan let go of him and put back all the (medical) tools back to the Chinese's fragile body.

"Thank you, Roderich."

"And _fratello_ , please make sure that _fratello_ will be okay too!" Feliciano cried.

"Bruder!" Gilbert pushed himself into the conversation, brushing past the Austrian (not noticing the look of pain that flashed across the nobleman's face).

"Ah! There you are, bruder! I've been looking for you! Are you coming home with me and Feli or are you…" Ludwig flashed a look at Roderich.

"Ahem…"

The group of people looked at the distressed person that had shown up. Gilbert frowned as Lovino whispered something into Roderich's ear, then had said something in Italian to Feliciano. After that, Lovino had made his way right back to the ICU and Antonio's side, no doubt.

"Okay, everyone!" Ludwig suddenly shouted.

"Yeah, dude? What'd you want?" Alfred shouted, his arms wrapped around Arthur. The British had fallen asleep some time ago. Not strange, considering that it was 1:00 a.m. in the morning and the British, who had a normally tight schedule, liked to sleep around 10:00 p.m.

"People that want to go home can leave now!" the German announced. Gilbert gawked as his brother placed an arm around Feliciano's waist and became one of the first to leave.

"I—"

"Hey, Gil…" Gilbert heard a quietly deathly voice groan next to his ear.

"What the fu—!"

"Don't shout. Don't cuss. Or you'll end up like the Belarussian outside there in the cold. Though I don't think she minds. You would, though," Francis muttered, rubbing the back of his head and covering Gilbert's mouth with his other.

Gilbert backed up from his best friend.

"How's Antonio?" Gilbert asked, even though he didn't expect Francis to know anyway.

"I don't know. After _mon cher_ pushed me onto the ground, I don't think I gained much conscious. I remember trying to pick a fight with _Amerique_ , but I guess even then I didn't quite know what I was doing exactly. Say, Gil, have you seen Mathieu?"

 _Didn't see_ that _coming at_ all.

Gilbert nodded smugly, and pointed to the bathroom.

"Thought you said you knew?" he asked. The Frenchman rubbed the space between his eyebrows and sighed.

"Yes. I don't quite know what I'm doing, to be frank. Sometimes I wish that I hadn't said anything at all. Perhaps then none of this mess would've happened. Well, then, thank you, Gil, I shall go try to talk to Mathieu again…and hopefully this time he wouldn't slam me onto the floor again…" Francis took his leave, but it wasn't long before Gilbert was called on again.

"Gil!"

A sweet girl's voice rang out, and he was thrown onto the ground as a flurry of green and white pounced onto him.

"Veta?" he muttered from under the person.

"Yes?"

"Can you get up off of the awesome me?"

"Hmm." Elizaveta Hedervary did as her boyfriend asked. Gilbert sat up, but just to make matters worse, Elizaveta kissed him full on the lips.

And as Gilbert kissed back, his tongue creeping into the Hungarian's mouth, he saw the Austrian round the corner. And upon his rounding, Roderich got a full eyeful of what Gilbert was doing.

Shit.

Gilbert knew he wasn't getting out of this one.

Not when Roderich had fallen to the floor and went out like a broken lightbulb.

Or when the Swiss guy had swung his fist into Gilbert's awesome face and screamed out the message Roderich Edelstein had told Vash Zwingli and not Gilbert Beilschmidt.

 _There's something I have to tell you, and this is a message between life and death. It concerns my wellbeing and my future. Vash, please don't tell Gilbert that I've found a way for nations to die. Please don't tell him that I can't stand life anymore. Please…don't tell…I…going to…suicide…on the Lover's Day…_

 **Guysss...please please forgive me. This is** ** _late_** **, I know, and the worst part is that I can only get ONE chapter up today!**

 **Don't worry though (and this can prob make up for my inability to make up more chapters)-I'm posting a suuuuppppppeeerrrr LLLLOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG chapter for the Valentine's Day special. In the Extras and the Specials, the nations are going to go by country names, not human, unlike in the main plot. Also, the view exceeded 999 views, therefore-I'm going to write** ** _another_** **special. Next Extra is going to come up with 1999 views, and people** ** _pls pls pls_** **give me ideas!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. Happy Valentine's Day! 3 3**


	21. Chapter 6 (LietPol)

_LietPol_

Feliks had just arrived home when— _whee_! He and Toris was like, called right back to the hospital. Apparently, this time it was the Austrian that had fainted.

Not like he could care less or more, but like, it would be really rude of him to not go.

And Toris was worried.

The entire road home, Toris kept on talking about Natalya and what she would feel like now that her big brother was clear about who his heart belonged with, and like, stuff that had to do with everything _except_ the Polish.

Feliks like, didn't like that.

At _all_.

"There's a scarf in the back of the car, if you want it," Toris murmured softly. The car pulled into the hospital's parking lot. Feliks' eyes lit up at those words.

Like, totes he would give _that_ chance up!

Upon arrival, Feliks spotted a pink unicorn. He squealed and charged towards it, snatching it out of a little girl's hands.

"Ah…sorry! Sorry!" Toris apologized. The little girl smiled awkwardly and said, "It's alright. I didn't exactly want it anyways…"

"Thank you!" Feliks said, kissing the girl's hand, then pranced down the corridor.

As the two made their way down the halls, however, they saw a group of nurses and doctors charge towards them, screaming, "Make way! Make way!" One person was shouting, "Patient 483!"

Then following behind, Feliks made out a couple of shapes.

Ivan Braginsky.

Amethyst eyes wide, followed closely by Leon and Mei, who had behind them Yong Soo, screaming, "Aniki!" And then behind them was Kiku and Heracles, alongside of Arthur and Alfred.

Toris looked uneasy.

"Would you like to first see Antonio and Roderich first?" he suggested.

Feliks knew why. Toris wasn't exactly still quite carefree about the things his ex-dictator had done to him…even if he had been out of Ivan's control for past three decades.

Feliks assumed that if he were less sassy and took everything a tad more serious, the Russian would seem much more intimidating to him. The truth was, though, that he had only heard two sides of the story; one from Yao, one from Toris and the rest of the nations. One claimed that Ivan was nothing but a big teddy bear; the other said he was a frightening murderer.

Anyone should be able to tell which is which.

They didn't interact much anyways, because each time he tried speaking to the Russian, Ivan always said, "da, da, da…" and ran away. Feliks was sure that he wasn't speaking that much anyways, but it was still true that Ivan didn't seem to like speaking to him.

"Sure," Feliks replied.

Toris glanced at him thankfully, then turned around and focused on his feet. As they slowly made their way down the halls, Feliks heard Toris ask him something.

"Hmm? What did you say? I like, didn't hear, so sorry," Feliks asked. Toris shook his head. Then he looked up into the Polish's green eyes. Green, just like how his were…the forest green that represented new spring, and chances, and new take…

"Toris?" Feliks' voice sprung up.

"Gosh! Yes? You scared the hell out of me!" Toris exclaimed. He had been thinking about what again? Right…those eyes—

"Dude! Like, stop wandering off! You almost hit a wall!" Feliks called, pulling Toris back towards him and the unicorn. Toris blushed deep red, and turned around to see Feliks pull the same expression he had.

The unicorn seemed to be smiling.

Toris bet that the unicorn _was_ laughing at them.

"I uh…Feliks, I…"

"Sorry! I like, got too, like, careless so I like…yeah! I'm like, really sorry!" Feliks said, quickly pushing Toris off of him.

Toris didn't know what he was thinking.

He just looked at Feliks, and immediately the thought, " _Kiss him_ ," flashed through his head.

He pulled the Polish in close to him and their lips crashed together.

"Wha—Toris?"

"Let me think."

When they separated, Toris stared at his best friend for a couple of seconds. Then he smiled awkwardly.

"I'm sorry. I uh…can you give me a couple of days to think about this?" Toris asked. Feliks nodded. Upon the nod, Toris turned and quickly ran away.

What stayed on the Polish's mind wasn't how he was going to get home now that Toris had gone, but the taste of sweet milk that he knew Toris loved the most. Only that the taste wasn't in the Lithuanian's mouth, but on the lips of the Polish now.

 _Oh crap,_ Feliks thought _, this time I'm_ so _dead. How am I going to get out of this now?_

 **Sorry this one is also short! I need help with some story plots, so if you guys can PM or review me, it'll be a** ** _looootttt_** **of help! Thanks! Keep of reviewing, favorite/follow!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	22. Chapter 6 (Giripan)

_Giripan_

Heracles felt dead. He didn't mind staying in the hospital with Kiku, because Kiku let him sleep on his lap. He didn't like the smell of alcohol and the medicines, and when Kiku started to mumble to himself, "What if Yao-nii doesn't make it?", as well as having to deal with the situations where people would shake him up and report to him the new statuses of what was going on.

The Austrian (his name was Roderich, right?) had knocked himself out unconscious earlier, causing the Prussian (Gilbert?) to get into a fit. And then the nurses had run around the place calling people up when Yao had gone from _stable_ into _emergency_ again. The Spaniard was still groaning in pain, and the Italian, the bad tempered one, was finally quiet once, which was new.

And a good thing too.

Heracles found himself more and more tired as the night dragged on.

The one time where the Austrian had volunteered to keep watch over the things, he and Kiku had only left for thirty minutes, was only half way home when they were called out again because Yao seemed to be in pain, the Spaniard was stirring a bit, and the Austrian had gone out cold.

Heracles didn't understand why people liked getting hurt so much.

Kiku's older brother was on the verge of dying, the Austrian seemed to have found a way to die, and the Spaniard had just come back from the edge of death.

Heracles _really_ didn't understand.

As he sat in front of the Surgery Room, he stared at the Japanese's side face. Kiku seemed down, and his elbows were taking over Heracles' spot.

He didn't like that either.

The light went off, and immediately Mei, Leon, Kiku, and the Russian stood up. The moment Leon had gotten up, the Korean, Kiku's other brother, fell off of Leon's shoulder and crashed into the ground.

Heracles watched as the British and the American were awakened by the crash and too leaped up. They helped Yong Soo off of the ground, then noticing the doctor's advance, turned to him.

The doctor cleared his throat.

"We tried our best," he started.

Kiku's eyes started to fill up with tears. Heracles didn't like that. He hated watching Kiku get all emotional. The only expression other than 'nothing' he liked on Kiku's face was 'sexy'.

Especially in bed.

Only that they haven't had sex in about…what? A week?

Heracles didn't like the thought. That was way too long. He had to find a way to get Kiku into bed within the next two days…and the cat. He liked cats, but the one that Kiku had brought to Russia with him, Heracles found that he didn't like very much.

"Doctor…? Do you mean Da Ge…?" Mei tried to say, but she broke down in tears. The Russian looked like his world had just collapsed.

"No, no! I just…the risk of the surgery we have to perform now has about only 20% success rate. It's not exactly high. We have to get rid of the problems he had before with the heart and the stomach. It seems like Mr. Wang hadn't been properly feeding himself, and he had heart issues that he had never taken care of. Only after those two surgeries can the last one be performed. If the surgery succeeds, Mr. Wang might end up paralyzed at worse."

"And the best?" Leon asked.

"He would need someone to take care of him forever."

"I can do that, da."

Heracles stared at the Russian, just like everyone else. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the American almost laugh. He probably would've had the British, Arthur, was it (?) covered the American's mouth with his hand.

"Commie love…" the American whispered. Ivan's eyebrows twitched.

"Shut up, you bloody git!" Arthur hissed. Heracles watched as the British twisted the American's ear and dragged him away, apologizing to Ivan.

"Ah, Ivan-san," Kiku started. Heracles grabbed Kiku's hand. He saw Kiku's ears get red. That was interesting.

"Yes?"

"…Please do take good care of Yao-nii. Don't let him feel bad again," Kiku murmured silently. He looked at Mei and Leon, then at Yong Soo. Kiku squeezed Heracles' hand.

"Da."

Heracles didn't like the glare that was in the Russian's eyes. It was too fierce.

Heracles didn't like things that were too bothersome. He preferred Kiku, because Kiku wasn't bothersome. Kiku never got too emotional. He wondered what he would have to go through if he cheated on Kiku.

Heracles didn't like the results.

So he decided he would never cheat on Kiku.

The doctor nodded, knowing what the congregation's answer was. He told them that they had to sign papers at the front desk, and the operation would immediately begin.

The whole process that followed was boring. The Russian, Leon, and Yong Soo stayed by the Surgery Room while Mei, Kiku, and Heracles followed a nurse to the front desk. They spent a whole hour filling up papers. The nurse came and told them that the operation had already begun, but Heracles still thought that they could've started it earlier.

Things that aren't emergent can be taken care of later, but something like a nation's life or death should be taken care of immediately.

Heracles also didn't like the Belarussian that stared at them through the glass doors, like she wanted to barge in and choke them.

Heracles didn't exactly like the two guards that kept on staring at them and the Belarussian.

But the time the papers were filled, Heracles still hadn't gotten used to the staring, nor the long period of stress that came after it. Kiku told him to go ahead and sleep, but Heracles found that hard to do with Kiku shifting every other moment impatiently.

All in all, Heracles wasn't sure he liked the night very much.

 **Hey guys! I still haven't done the first Extra and we're already approaching 1999 views? I think I'm really getting more and more lazy! That is probably not good...right? Thanks for reading this! Continue to favorite /follow and review!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. I finally realized why the chapters wouldn't add up! There was a missing Franada chapter!**


	23. Chapter 7 (Sufin)

_SuFin_

Berwald marked off more items on the list. There were only two more things down to go: the cake and the table cloths.

Peter was most excited about selecting the cake. He had been telling the entire world (or at least every single person he could find) that he was going to select the cake for Feliciano and Ludwig's wedding, and that he was going to get the biggest, fanciest, best cake in the _world_.

Berwald didn't think they could do that with the money they had, but you could always let the kid have his dream.

"Berwald?" Tino called from inside the house. Berwald glanced over at his best friend and Mathias' brother in the snow. He shook his head as he watched Lukas and Mathias leave the other's side at lightning speed.

If they love, then they should love.

If they don't, then they shouldn't even like.

That was Berwald's line of logic. If it was impossible to think how the result would be, then there shouldn't even be a try to go.

"Berwald?" Tino called again.

"Yes, wife?" Berwald stopped staring at Lukas and Mathias. He walked back into the house.

"Can you help me with this?" Tino asked.

Just then, the doors of the house burst open and Peter rushed in, screaming, "He kissed me, he kissed me!"

Berwald stared at his son. Sometimes he wished that he could click on the RETURN button on the eBay website, only that sadly the return date was long still over. And at those times, Berwald could only sigh and grudgingly stare at the screen.

"Hey! I figured things out! I finally get it now! Okay, Mom, Dad, I told Raivis that I'll marry him—"

"What? You can't make promises like that without letting us first confirm it!" Tino called. Peter rolled his eyes, but nevertheless rushed on.

"Listen, listen. So besides the Raivis and I like each other thing, the deal is that everyone else has confirmed three things. Antonio is out of the hospital, and ever since he dropped the axe and Francis hid it away again, he and Romano have gotten a little better in their relationship. Rumors are flying around that they're going to get married too!"

"I'm not helping them with their marriage," Tino groaned.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Anyways, that's the first thing. The second is that Yao is going to be spending the next couple hours in surgery. Apparently, the doctors need to get rid of all the things that he hasn't treated himself before that caused him to have his outbreak."

"Dear, isn't that terrible? Berwald, do you think we should go next door into Russia?" Tino asked. Berwald looked at his wife.

"If you want to."

"If we can get the things done, we should go to Russia," Tino said.

"Anyways…" Peter said, trying to get his parents' attention back. "The last thing is the Roderich and Gilbert had a really big fallout, and news is that the albino kissed Elizaveta in front of Roderich—and he fainted! Also, Roderich has found a way to let nations die!"

"What?"

The new pair that burst in through the door had ridiculously red ears and faces.

"We can die? That brilliant!" Lukas exclaimed.

"No, that's _not_!" Mathias retorted. "That's stupid! You're going to be calling the Austrian every other day because you're so easily emotionally worked up! We can't let you make stupid decisions! What happens if they take it for real?"

"Maybe Roderich's going to die first anyways!"

"He is!"

"So why would it matter? It's just a figure of speech!"

"Because!"

"Because—"

"Shut up!" Tino screamed. The two immediately shut up. Berwald watched as his wife led the two over to the couch and sat them down.

"Listen, Ta-san, we're going over to Russia when we select the cake and get the tablecloths chosen. When we get over there, I expect the two of you to not throw a fit when you see the Leon and Yong Soo."

"The jerk broke Emil's heart!"

"Stop being an imbecile! Get over it! Even Emil got over it anyways!" Tino said. "I expect you to be nice to Leon if we even meet him at all, okay?"

"Maybe," Lukas muttered.

"Okay!" Mathias agreed.

"And Lukas," Tino added, "do not bring a Christmas Tree. I know that Arthur told you to not send one to him this year because he wasn't going to be home and that you wouldn't see him this year, but seeing him in Russia doesn't give you the right to bring a tree on the airplane."

"Darn."

"Okay!" Mathias cut in again.

"So…when are we going to get the cake? It's going to be the fanciest, biggest, best looking one in history!" Peter called.

Tino looked at Berwald, who nodded his head stiffly.

"Now."

 **...If you guys wouldn't mind, please do go back and look at the Franada chapter. I had to delete all the chapters, so now my views are totally messed up. I'm like...totally freaking out right now. I wish I had double-checked! The extra (for 999 views) is coming up tomorrow!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **Keep Reviewing and Favorite/Follow!**


	24. Extra I

_**I'm accepting ideas for the Extras! More info at the end!**_

 **Cianorella**

"Italy, get the scrub and rub my back for me!" France called to his younger brother.

"Italy, get me my glasses already!" Austria yelled from upstairs.

"I wish _fratello_ would come back…he hasn't come back in years, I miss him so much…" Italy wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Hurry up and help your brothers! I can always help you too though, Austria, you can always ask me too!" Italy's stepbrother yelled.

"Yes, Prussia…"

Italy thought of the good days when the four of them would run around. That was before France had put Prussia (who was the second youngest) in charge of the rules and order, Austria in charge of the money (who was the second oldest), and him in charge of the schedule (who was the oldest). And Italy, who was the smallest of them all (and the adopted one), got to be the maid, because he had volunteered to.

It was all okay in the beginning, until a fairy named England came and started making France actually write schedules, who then was forced to write them out and do things according to them. But Prussia refused to do anything, Austria refused to spend any money, and Italy refused to refuse, so France immediately put his focus on Italy.

"Please, you have to help save me from that devil," France would always say.

If Italy had known that _helping_ France included losing the ability to eat pasta and eat the fairy's cooking, having to give up all his white flags for the fairy to test his spells on, and to not be able to talk about the prince, Italy would've still helped France.

Because France was his old brother!

And he looked so sad!

Italy liked the fairy a lot, because even though he was scary and made terrible tasting food, he always attracted a lot of pretty girls who would chase him while he screamed, "Bloody gits!"

"Italy! My glasses!"

"The scrub, _mon petite_?"

"Coming! Ve~ when will _fratello_ come back?" Italy said to himself.

"A message. You should check the mail more often!" The fairy called. Prussia came down the stairs, looking like he had just gotten up. Austria also came down the stairs, because he was tired of waiting and decided he needed to just stop being lazy. France also came down, wearing _nothing_.

"What is it?" Prussia asked, tearing the letter open while he grabbed the Austrian around the waist. England huffed and stared at France disapprovingly.

"Get yourself some _clothes_ , man! No one wants to see your—"

"Ah, but _Angleterre_ , no one minds except for you!"

"Git!"

England flew away, no doubt to his secret lair again. Italy was afraid of passing the room, because there were always green puffs of gas that made loud exploding noises.

"…a ball at what? The Prince's Palace?"

"Kesesese! Should we go? What do you say, Austria?"

"Shut up! I would much rather compose my music than go to some dumb ball."

"They say that they Philharmonia Orchestra is going to go there and play. Also, the king has a special taste for birds. Especially yellow ones." Francis poked at the paper. "Ohonhon! And there is going to be a chef contest?"

"Do you want to go, Italy?" Austria asked, trying to push Prussia's arm away from his waist.

"Does it say anything about pasta?"

"Hmm…no. There's a lot of German food though…"

"I don't know what German food is. Is it going to be like English food?' Italy asked. France thought for a minute.

"Maybe?" he finally said at last.

"Then I don't want to go."

"Okay. Let's get ready then!"

_8 hours later_

"Italy, we're leaving! We'll try to come home as fast as possible, okay?" Austria called. Italy nodded his head, pulling the broom across the ground.

"I'm going to see my friend, Italy. Sorry to leave you alone…" England muttered, quietly flying out the window. Italy sniffed. He hated being left alone. It made him feel insecure. Especially because the sky looked like it was going to rain soon.

As the carriage pulled out into the roads, Italy sniffled again. He wanted to eat pasta, and he wanted to see _fratello_ …would _fratello_ be at the ball?

All of a sudden, Italy felt this urge.

He _had_ to go to the ball!

"Hey! I'm Hungary!"

"What?" Italy stared at the pretty lady that had just appeared in front of him. She had brown hair and green eyes, and there was a red flower in her hair. She looked like England, only a girl and wearing a dress, with brown colored hair and much, much bigger.

"Okay, okay, I have to go back soon and watch yaoi videos with Japan, but the deal is I'm your fairy godmother, and I have to help you get to the ball, because Romano's going to be there, and there _is_ going to be pasta because your brother's there and he's engaged to…yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyways…"

"What? Don't you have a spell?" Italy asked.

"Hmm. Right. BL, BL, BL is the law!" Hungary shouted. Italy didn't know what BL was, neither did he know why he was still dressed up in him normal maid uniform.

"Uh…that's the only outfit I have. It's alright, it's a cosplay ball, so you'll be fine. Let's go then! Be sure to not forget your curfew is at twelve!"

Italy found himself standing in front of the palace gates. He walked in.

"What character are you?" a guard asked.

"Uh…Cianorella," Italy replied.

"Lady Cianorella!" the guard yelled to the room. Immediately Italy was tackled over by another person in a similar dress like his.

" _Fratello?_ " Italy gasped.

"Ah, I miss you so much!" Romano screamed. "The bastard wouldn't let me go until I promised I would marry him, and then he wouldn't let me leave until we got married! I finally convinced him to let me come to the ball, but I was so scared that you wouldn't come! Di your fairy godmother come see you too? Damn, they've got only one costume! Did you also get a broom?"

Italy stared at the vast ballroom, his brother, and the people. Then he stared at the broom in his hand.

"Who's the bastard?" he asked. Another man with brown hair and green eyes approached him, eating a tomato.

"Hey. My name's Spain. I'm your future…uh…not uncle, not aunt, not nephew…what is it again?"

"Brother-in-law?" Italy suggested.

"No, that's what I'm supposed to call you. I'm your—"

"You bastard! Feli is also your brother-in-law! Any plus, were not even married yet!" Romano got up off of Italy and dragged Spain away. "I'll catch up with you later, _fratello_!"

"Okay. Ve~"

Italy made his way to the food table and saw Austria and Prussia dancing with each other in the distance. He smiled. France was trying to hook up some people, but there was a really pretty guy that held a polar bear that kept looking at France. Italy thought that the pretty guy's bear was really cute.

Suddenly his eyes were attached to a certain person. Italy thought that the person looked really scary. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and he looked like he had just eaten England's poisonous food.

"May I dance with you?" the guy asked.

"You're so scary!" Italy bluntly remarked. The guy frowned.

"What's your name?' he asked.

"Italy," Italy replied.

"I'm Germany."

The lights suddenly went off, and Italy clutched the only thing that he could instinctively grab onto—the German dude that was so scary.

When the lights went on again, the grandfather clock started to chime too.

"It's curfew already?" Italy gasped. He tore away from the tall scary guy and rushed away with his broom in hand, leaving Germany rooted at his spot.

Germany chased out after Italy, but for some reason, the retreat speed of the cute Italian was ridiculously fast. The only thing that was left there was the broomstick that Italy had carried into the ball.

The next day, Germany started his search. Passing through every house in the city, he asked if people were missing a broom. Some people lied and told him that they were, but when they said it with a broom in their hand, it started to get a little obvious.

Finally, Germany approached a house.

A yellow bird flew down from the sky and entered the house. The bird looked familiar. An albino had brought it to the ball.

Germany knocked on the door.

A boy dressed in a green dress with a white apron, a curl in his brownish, red hair with amber eyes came and opened the door.

"Are you…?"

"Ve~ You're the scary dude! Oh, that's my broom!"

Austria, Prussia, and France all came down the stairs. England came out of his secret lair.

Germany dropped to one knee. He grabbed Italy's hand while Austria and Prussia stared. France kept on laughing, "Ohonhonhon!" and England was shaking some pink liquid.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

Italy nodded.

"Do I get to eat pasta?" Italy asked.

"Yes."

"I will! Ve~"

No one really told him that "marrying" a person wasn't all just eating pasta, but by the time that fact rolled around into existence for the Italian to learn, he had already promised the rest of his life to Prince Germany Ludwig Beilschmidt.

 **Hey guys? This is a really really really weird (?) extra? I'm pretty sure all of you guys can guess from which fairy tale this is spun from. All the extras are going to be changed from famous fairy tales. The next extra is coming up very soon! Review/PM and tell me what you would like the next extra to be about!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **Keep on reviewing and favorite/follow pls!**


	25. AN (Again I'm sorry)

**Hey guys! I'm sorry, gotta take a break (again)! Just this Monday! I rly rly sorry! Just a heads up for anyone that sees this, the book will be coming to an end soon. I'm willing to take any ideas for any topic (as long as I can decide some of the CPs) that's Hetalia, Harry Potter, PJATO (Percy Jackson and the Olympians), and some random crossovers!**

 **Continue to review and favorite/follow please!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	26. Chapter 7 (Rochu)

_Rochu_

Ivan grasped Yao's hand.

He couldn't take it anymore.

If this is what guilt felt like, Ivan would much rather die than continue to live amongst this torture. If it was what love could bring, Ivan didn't want to love.

Yao had finally gone through all three surgeries, and the entire time, the light for the surgery room resembled the feeling that was charging through Ivan's head: red. Like the aggravating blood that pumped through Ivan's veins, reassuring that he was alive, alive, having to bear through all the pain that this cursed time was putting upon him.

If Yao died, Ivan would rather not live.

Everything was his fault to begin with. There wasn't anything except for death that could make up his apology. He couldn't believe how Mei and Leon had forgiven him. The Asian weren't _stupid_ , damn, they were _smart_ for a reason!

Ivan felt something twitch under his hand.

He lifted his head up, his violet eyes meeting up with a pair of brown ones that weakly gazed at him.

Damn.

This couldn't be real.

Please, dear lord, if this were a dream, please let this dream go on forever.

Yao formed a weak smile with the edge of his mouth, the pale lips curving up. The same lips parted, forming two words, no sound coming out, but it seemed to Ivan that the whole world could've been traded for these two words.

"Yi Wan."

He remembered him.

"Yao, Yao, Yao, Yao…" Ivan grasped Yao's hand, crying out the only word he could think of right now, thanking every single deity in Russia's history that could've been the one that helped him, in his heart singing ' _I love you, I love you_ ' over and over.

"Yi Wan…"

"Yao…"

"Dude! What are you—hey! Everyone! Yao's awake!" The obnoxious American voice called out again. But this time, Ivan was engaged with his emotions and the moments he had just experienced that he couldn't help but cry and cling onto Yao. Only somewhere inside of him did a cautious voice remind him to not cause more pain to Yao.

"Yi Wan, Yi Wan…stop, aru."

 _Stop._

 _Stop._

 _STOP._

Ivan dropped Yao, eyes wide. Everyone that had gathered by the door gasped and started to talk, Alfred being the only one screaming, "Bastard! He's hurt you can't—", whereas then he was cut off by Arthur.

"Da?" Ivan asked.

"You have…a girl…please…I don't…be a toy…Yi Wan?" Yao asked.

Ivan stumbled backwards. Yao thought he had a girlfriend? Who…Natalya? She was his _sister_! Did Yao always think…? No, had he hurt Yao so much that Yao automatically…?

Ivan wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad. He was happy that Yao was jealous of his girlfriend, that Yao wanted to be valued in his heart, but Yao…just assumed that Ivan was a playboy? No, ever since that meeting years ago, ever since he hurt Yao…ever since that flower, Ivan could never give another sunflower to Yao again. It reminded him of how he poisoned him, of how he once attempted to destroy him. How could he possibly dare hurt Yao again?

Ivan knew he loved him.

But he couldn't.

They were only friends, at most sex lovers. There was no excuse for what he did, there was no remedy for the poison he had given.

Yao looked up at Ivan, completely ignoring the crowds around him. He stared as his Russian teddy bear walked through the crowd, towards the door. He wanted to lift up a hand, to grab his scarf, to hug him.

Ever since that meeting, Yao's favorite flower was no longer just the peony, but rather the peony _and_ the sunflower. He lover the bright colors of the yellow flower that always faced the sun, in great contrast to the blood-red flower that resembled his country's color.

"Yi Wan, aru…?"

"Yi Wan…"

"Yi Wan."

Yao wanted to grab his throat, force more sound out of himself. He didn't want to hurt Ivan! He didn't want anyone to get hurt because of him again!

Yao hated getting hurt, but he hated hurting others even more. He couldn't stand the agony that terrorized his heart each time. He hated having to destroy the peace because of himself…He wanted his Ivan, his Yi Wan, his Vanya. He didn't want that look, that look…the same one that seemed to tell Yao he was nothing, nothing but trouble…

Vanya…

Vanya…

My Russian teddy bear…

"Vanya!" Yao screamed, tearing his arms away from the needles and tubes. He ripped the oxygen mask off of his face. Everyone started to scream, and footsteps thundered down the hall as doctors and nurses made their way to the room. Alfred and Arthur stumbled out of the crowd, attempting to shove Yao back onto the bed, but Yao, Yao was screaming, pushing forward, crying, reaching out, wishing, desperately hoping he could reach that other end of the scarf…

"Vanya…" he cried. "Vanya, aru…"

"I'm here…" the voice he always heard when he was drunk, when he was ill, when he needed comfort, whispered.

"Vanya?" Yao grabbed the fabric he knew could only belong to Ivan's white scarf.

"Yao…Yao, don't cry da?"

By the time Yao had been rested back at his place again, most people had scattered, Francis going back to talk Matthew out of coming out of the bathroom stall, Alfred and Arthur silently talking, Heracles asleep on Kiku's lap, Leon trying to get Yong Soo to quiet down, Gilbert sitting by himself in a corner (no doubt questioning himself), Vash and Lilli Zwingli playing a silent game of reading minds, Elizaveta taking her shift watching Roderich, Ludwig and Feliciano off somewhere, Antonio trying to stop Lovino pounding his chest and crying and cussing, Feliks cuddling his pink unicorn and falling asleep on Toris.

Ivan placed a hand on Yao's head.

The hand, pale and thin, that brushed against his other hand gave off a warmth Ivan could never expect to have again.

He kissed Yao's forehead, whispering, "I love you, da?"

"Mathieu!" A scream broke the unnatural peace.

 **The story's ending! I am still taking suggestions for the next fanfiction! And to all of you out there, I just want to say a thank you for the favorite/follows! Thank you so much! It gives me a lot of inspiration to continue! The next Extra is coming out with 2999 views. Thanks you all for reading!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **BTW if you see this part, I just want to tell you guys that I am (maybe) going to start a sequel to this that explains the life afterwards...perhaps smut in that? ^v^~~**


	27. Chapter 7 (Franada)

_Franada_

Francis busted the door down, quite like what Ludwig had done earlier.

Matthew stood inside, unsure of whether he should run, scream, fight, or break down sobbing.

"Come, _mon cher_ , I need to talk with you."

Matthew shook his head.

"I—I don't want to talk with you," he said. Francis' eyes glowed dangerously dark. Matthew had seen that look only once before—when he was fighting Arthur over him, back in the 16th century, before the fire had diminished and the war had a result.

If it wasn't because Arthur had been determined as much as Francis—no, _more_ than Francis—to look good in front of his kid (Alfred, that was _hard_ to know), Francis couldn't have lost. That deep blue, like the ocean, fire that blazed amongst the Frenchman's pupils showed the years of history: years of war; years of peace; years of death; years of life. The loved one that passed away, the enemies that fell under his foot.

"Francis…"

"I need to talk with you," Francis growled. This time, Matthew couldn't say no.

He had no _choice_.

Francis wasn't accepting "no" for an answer.

"Take me," Matthew whispered. Francis grabbed the Canadian's slim wrist, dragging the boy away.

Through the halls, past the group of people standing around idly, past the nations that gawked at them, past Alfred who tried to get in their way, past Arthur who blocked Alfred and told him to 'leave them alone'.

Finally, they arrived on a balcony. It was the one over the rose bushes at the backside of the hospital.

"What do you want to say?" Matthew asked, closing his eyes.

What met him wasn't words, but rather something soft, tasting of wine.

"Mmf! What are you doing?" Matthew asked, shoving Francis away. His face flushed deep crimson. Did Francis just…

"Don't ever close your eyes in front of a Frenchman," Francis suggested. He approached Matthew, who backed up slowly. "I've been thinking about a lot of things. Mathieu, I want to tell you that you are unique. I never took you as a replacement. Yes, you do look like Joan, you do have that special personality, that fire and water mix, the metal infused within cotton…but you're special. I don't think I can ever love again after I meet you. I…Please forgive me, _mon cher_."

Matthew's eyes widened.

No way.

"You can't be serious, eh?" he said, his Canadian accent that he'd been trying to suppress the entire time popping up. This entire time, these dreadful, weary days where everyone had been worried about Yao, about Antonio, now about Roderich…these days that he had caused if he didn't run off like an immature child…

It was all a misunderstanding.

Matthew had taken Francis wrongly.

"I-I'm sorry, I, don't know why I ran off…I just…and causing everyone to get hurt, causing everyone to have to stay here longer, eh, I just—"

"Shh. It's not your fault, Mathieu." Francis sealed Matthew's lips, pushing against something soft.

"Gah! You stop it or I'll bite you!" something shrieked between them.

Both peered down at the furry object in Matthew's arms. Kumajiro bared his sharp teeth at the two. He tried to hiss.

He failed.

"You're so cute, Kuma!" Matthew said, burying his face into the polar bear's fur.

'Kuma' bit him.

"His name is Kumajiro," Francis reminded as he petted the bear. Kumajiro licked the side of Francis' hand, and then shifted himself so that he wasn't dangling by his neck. Matthew stared at the bite marks on his hand.

"Git! Are you done with him—bloody hell!" Arthur's voice called out. Francis ignored him. Matthew tried to jerk his hand away, but the grip that the French had was way too strong.

"Why are you sucking on my brother's hands?" Alfred demanded, thoroughly unpleased. "I let you two stay alone for ten minutes and you're already trying to sexually harass Mattie? Dude, that's not cool _at all_!"

"Ah, _Amerique, Angleterre_ , I see you two have arrived."

"As well as everyone that isn't watching Yao and Roderich," Feliks said.

"Eh…Francis! Everyone's watching!" Matthew protested, pulling his hand away uselessly.

Francis kissed his hand, leaving a trail of saliva running down Matthew's hand.

"Are you willing to be my lover?" Francis asked. Matthew started crying, pressing his burning red face into Francis' chest.

"Y-Yes…" Matthew whispered.

Francis lifted him off the ground, bridal style, and carried him over to the gathering crowd that was now applauding (other than Arthur who looked horrified at what Francis had done).

"You better treat Mattie well!" Alfred yelled.

"Yes, I will, _mon petite_ ~" Francis seductively whispered into Matthew's ears.

A thundering of footsteps came towards the crowd now. Vash swung around the corner, his face pale, heavily breathing. His hat was lopsided on his head. Lilli showed up behind him, but much more distraught. Her hat had fallen off somewhere, as it wasn't on her head.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Ro-Roderich is d—" Lilli stammered.

"Duh?" Alfred asked.

"Dying!" Vash screamed.

The silence that followed collapsed as immediately the crowd moved towards the hospital room Roderich was lying in. When they all reached the door, they stopped as they saw the person standing above Roderich's body.

"Gilbert, what are you doing?" Ludwig asked.

 **I truly apologize. I truly do. I've finally decided. Just wait for the next chapter. Still accepting submissions/requests! Pls continue to review, PM, favorite/follow!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	28. Chapter 8 (USUK)

_USUK_

Arthur stared as Gilbert Beilschmidt pulled the silver dagger from Roderich's chest and wiped it on the deep-purple shirt Roderich wore.

"What did you do? Where's Elizaveta, you git?" Arthur demanded. Gilbert turned around, his pupils glowing eerily as they focused on the British. Arthur felt Alfred's hand slip around his waist protectively. Gilbert started walking over to the window, and, thrusting it open, peered down.

"Down there," he said quietly. Then he clipped the silver dagger back onto his belt and left the room. As he passed Alfred, Alfred noticed that his face was covered in claw marks and a couple streaks of blood. There was also something else he was holding. Was that…a frying pan?

"Dude, what's wrong with him?" Alfred asked, staring at Gilbert as he left.

"Never mind that, call someone! Roderich's bleeding! His heart…it…" Arthur followed Vash's gaze and looked at the heart monitor screen.

"The line's flat," Francis stated.

"What's wrong, da? I heard you down the hall, Alfred," Ivan asked, coming up behind them. Two nurses followed behind him, and soon everyone saw who had come down with them. Yao, who could barely stand, gazed at Ivan wearily. He had a pole in his hand that had lines connected to the needles in his arm, and sacks of the medical water was tied at the top.

"You can go, da?" Ivan said, turning to the nurses.

"S-Sir, this…"

"I can always talk my way out of this, da? You can just go, okay?" Ivan said. The nurses looked at each other then rushed off, looking like they were thrilled to be away from Ivan.

Arthur wondered other than Yao, who _would_ want to be with Ivan.

"Roderich's dead, aru?" Yao asked weakly. He took a couple of steps forward and leaned against Ivan. Ivan hugged him closer and guided him to the front of the crowd. Everyone parted for them.

"Yes," Vash stated. His eyes were dull, and he kept on staring at Roderich's body.

Alfred looked at Roderich's closed eyes.

He grabbed Roderich's wrist.

Ice cold.

It was obvious that Roderich's pulse had stopped long before Gilbert had put a sword through his chest.

 _Everyone had reacted to that rather well_ , Alfred thought. _No one seems too surprised._

"Where did Gilbert say Elizaveta was?" Arthur asked.

"Down," Lilli replied.

Arthur rushed to the balcony and peered down. His eyes widened. He turned around and yelled, "Call a doctor!"

"What is it?" Alfred asked, coming next to Arthur.

Elizaveta's broken form lay amongst the cement ground, blood pooling around her. Her eyes were open, as if in awe, and her mouth was open in shock. She had something in her hand, a book, it seemed. And the worst part was that she seemed to have been in a fight.

Arthur rushed down the stairs, but when he got to the bottom, Alfred was already there.

"Bloody…how?" he demanded. Alfred grinned. He grabbed the book from Elizaveta's hand.

"I jumped," he said casually. "She's still alive. I don't think the fall really did anything to her. Better call in a checkup though." With that note, Ludwig came back with the doctors who lifted her in a stretcher and rushed her away.

"What's the book say?" Italy called down. He looked like he was about to cry. Alfred flipped through the front page.

'"The diary of Roderich Edelstein.' Seriously, who still writes diaries?" Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Just _read_ it, for bloody hell!" Arthur swore.

"Alright, alright! Uh…random page… 'January 13rd. Today I found out Gilbert has another date other than me. Sometimes I think back to those days when we used to gaze at stars and look at the fields. The music we used to play chorused together perfectly. Yet now there is no time for that, as he needs time to spend it with her.' Ooh, he sounds really depressed!" Alfred read.

"Continue!" Arthur demanded.

"Alright, Artie!"

"Don't call me that!" Arthur said.

"Okay, okay! Artie, calm down!" Alfred continued to read on and on and on, and hours later he was finally finishing up. "'…so Gilbert, I just want to tell you this if you ever read it, please don't fall in love again. Love is a poison that both of us have drank, and the only remedy for that is death. Please forgive me.'"

"Ah-hmm," someone coughed behind everyone. Alfred and Arthur turned around to see the doctor.

He shook his head.

"The operation was very successful in the concern of Elizaveta Hedervary, but Roderich Edelstein…well, it's rather a strange thing…"

"Go on!" Arthur urged.

"He seems to have completely vanished from the operation table."

"What?" Vash demanded, pushing his way through the crowd. He grabbed the doctor's shirt. "Roderich didn't mention this to me! He never said anything about—"

"Dying?" a voice rang out. People's heads turned, and Alfred's jaw dropped when he saw who had come out. Covered in blood, the same silver dagger he had pulled out from Roderich's body in his hand, a lopsided frown hanging on his face, was Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"I won't ever love again," his cold voice hung in the air.

"What have you done with Roderich, you git?" Arthur demanded.

"Me?" Gilbert laughed. "I haven't done anything. Rather, you should ask, what has he done to _himself_?"

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked, grabbing Arthur who charged forward, preparing to strike the Prussian. Gilbert's crimson eyes bored into Alfred's blue ones, and for one the nation felt the ancient and dark history behind the elder's mask.

"He's left us. He's left _me_. He _killed himself_."

 **Hey guys! Yes, I'm a jerk, I know...Elizaveta is actually one of my favorite characters in Hetalia, so I apologize firstly to the Hungarian fans and Hungarians. To the dear Guest that replied to me, thank you so much for correcting me. Now I can finally get over the guilt! I was actually freaking out if I correctly wrote the French right or not. Thank you! That review actually meant a lot to me.**

 **So pls continue to review and follow/favorite pls!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. I'm still hanging onto that extra I need to do. I need to get to it. The story's ending. You all know that. Everything's going to come out in the end correctly though.**


	29. Chapter 8 (PruAus)

_PruAus_

Gilbert stared lifelessly into the crowd.

The awesome him hated this unawesome life. No one understood the pain he was in. He had only wanted to check in on Roderich, wanted Roderich to forgive him…

And all he got were those words.

 _"_ _Please, stop making him suffer, Elizaveta! You're—we're—killing him!"_

 _"_ _What do you know, Roderich? You don't know! I've loved him from the very start! I used to think it was wrong, because I was a boy, but now I realize I'm a girl, Roderich, I love him!"_

 _"_ _Elizaveta, I understand. I loved him too, from the very beginning. But we're draining him away, don't you understand. Only a life for a life can the trade be made. He was destined to die from the very start. He's only been holding up, but it's not going to be soon before he realizes he's disappearing."_

 _"_ _But I don't want to lose him!"_

 _"_ _Neither do I! I…Elizaveta, there's only one thing I can do. That_ we _can do."_

 _"_ _That is…?"_

 _"_ _Kill me."_

Gilbert shut his eyes, remembering the dialogue he had eavesdropped in on. Roderich had purposely killed himself.

How remarkably selfish?

How dreadful?

How Roderich?

Gilbert would've much rather the awesome him die and awesome death than watch his lover die an unawesome death. And what was Roderich thinking, leaving Elizaveta alive in the same room after she had killed him? For Gilbert to find?

How could Gilbert love her?

How could he love again?

Gilbert turned on his heels, walking out the door. When he had finally realized what he had done, he had almost killed _Elizaveta_ , he had got out, dazed. He had gotten drunk. Way too high for his own good, he had reentered his own house, and finding Maximo sitting there on the couch, listening to the bastard tell him how darn unawesome he was…he couldn't accept it.

He couldn't accept _any_ of it.

He had hurt Maximo.

It was only fair that Maximo had got in a few hits and cuts too.

Gilbert stumbled out into the cold Russian night air.

How many days had it been? Only the night before had he kissed Elizaveta, had he hurt Roderich, had Yao Wang woken up from his dreadfully unawesome long sleep. And only today morning had he accidentally overheard the conversation, had he watched Elizaveta cry and kill Roderich, had he almost killed Elizaveta.

There was no law to condemn him, and there was nothing there to tell him he was wrong.

Gilbert felt the tears flow down his face as he whispered two words: "Little Princess."

How he had _wished_ he had stayed, how he wished that instead of pulling all his shit and his damned bastard acting in front of his _princess_ , he had instead _f*cking_ stayed by him, stayed by his ruler, stayed by his princess, stayed by his Roderich.

And now he was _dead_. 

"Damn!" Gilbert swore, punching his already bloodied fist into a wall.

"… _Bruder_! Gilbert!" Ludwig's voice sounded from behind him. Gilbert didn't want to care, he didn't want to listen, he didn't want to give a damn about _anything_ …if he had bothered to give a damn about Roderich, the Austrian wouldn't have died for him!

"It's over, Ludwig…"

"Bruder!"

"I've killed him…"

"Bruder!"

"I've almost killed Elizaveta…"

"Bruder!"

Gilbert lifted his head up, the crimson irises meeting up with the dark night sky. A whole week and four days, that's all it took for his lover to free himself from the burden he had been forced to carry.

There would be no home for him anymore.

"Bruder!" Ludwig's hand clasped onto Gilbert's shoulder, the German panting heavily, a whole crowd of people behind him.

"Yes?"

Ludwig looked at Gilbert with a determined look in his face.

"Arthur says he can revive Roderich. So please, please come back?" Ludwig pleaded. Gilbert stared at Ludwig.

"For what? For his own life. No, _bruder_ , I was the one that had murder little princess with my own actions, now I must walk on with this. I'm sorry…I'll try to stay in contact. This was my wedding gift for you, I'm sorry I won't be able to go…" Speaking, Gilbert pulled the silver dagger from his belt and put it in Ludwig's hands. "This was a symbol of peace and prosper, but it will only work when your life has love in it, and damn, I've lost it. Look where it's led me? This dagger is a gift, and it is also a curse. I trust that you will end up better with it than me…"

"Bruder?" Ludwig asked, tears stumbling down his face.

" _Abschied, bruder_."

And with that, the Prussian walked off into the night, the only thing that accompanied him in his lonesome leave his cape, fluttering amongst the night.

 **Ha...yes, I've done it. I'm such a jerk. I'm terribly sorry that I forgot to update again last Thursday. I was away and I forgot to bring my charger...(QAQ)...pls forgive me...continue to review, favorite/follow!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. The second extra will come up before the end of this month (I hope...)**


	30. Chapter 8 (GerIta)

_GerIta_

Ludwig stared straight ahead, the mixed feelings tossing around his stomach and head. The orchestra that was supposed to be led by Roderich no longer had a master, yet playing together fairly well, as if they had moved on without him. His own brother, who had been one of the most high to announce Feliciano and Ludwig's marriage in the beginning, had left for two weeks already. The dagger he had left was now sitting in a glass display box on the seat that was reserved for _Gilbert Beilschmidt._ Elizaveta had finally gotten out of the hospital, but has ever since then become way too emotional for her own good, every single time hearing music breaking down and crying.

And then there was Feliciano, his lovely, pretty, cute, adorable _Feliciano_ , walking down the red mattress towards him.

"…Feli…" Ludwig whispered.

"Ve~ Don't think about it anymore, okay?" the Italian begged. Ludwig dropped his eyes to the Italian.

"I can't, Feli…"

"Ve~ Alright, then please at least let us get through this, okay?" Feliciano asked. "Then I'll go back and we can sit down and talk, ve~?"

"I'm so sorry, I'm ruining our wedding because of—"

"What? No! Gilbert was as much my _fratello_ as he was _yours_ , Luddy! It's not your fault!"

Toni, who was the one in charge of the organization of the wedding, as well as the one who had to speak to them, cleared his throat. Skipping over the entirety of the things he knew Feliciano and Ludwig didn't have the patience for, he asked:

"Do you, Ludwig Beilschmidt, promise to forever love Feliciano Vargas, from now to eternity, till death does you apart?"

"I, Ludwig Beilschmidt, promise so."

"Do you, Feliciano Vargas, promise to forever love Ludwig Beilschmidt, from now to eternity, till death does you apart?"

"I do, ve~"

"I now announce you wife and husband. Congrats!" Germania and the Holy Roman Empire wiped a stray tear from their cheek as Toni finished his lines. Everyone stood up and clapped. Ludwig turned around and surveyed the crowd.

Alfred, Arthur; Francis, Matthew; Berwald, Toni; Antonio, Romano; Toris, Feliks; Mathias, Lukas; Vash and Lilli; Ivan, Yao; Yong Soo, Leon; Heracles, Kiku; Holy Roman Empire and Germania; Raivis, Peter; Mei; Elizaveta; Maximo; Viktor, Vlad; the empty chairs of Gilbert and Roderich…and then at his dear, dear Feli.

"I have something to say," Ludwig declared. People stopped clapping and hooting, and turned around to him.

"What do you want to say, Luddy?" Feliciano asked.

"Ahem…" Ludwig cleared his throat. "I wish to thank all of you for coming to witness this wedding. It really means a lot to me and Feli, especially due to everything that has happened in the past weeks. I just want to say that I would like to ask everyone to please remember my brother, Gilbert, and his dead lover, Roderich. This dagger," Ludwig gestured to the silver dagger, "was the last thing he gave me. It means a lot to Feli and I. Please witness our wedding as much as you guys witnessed Roderich's death."

Everyone became silent.

Then the applause started again, and people started hooting and some began to cry. Other's stood up.

"Thank you for your speech," Arthur said. "It truly means a lot to us, everything that has happened in the past weeks. I trust that this relationship of yours will go down into history, and none of us will ever forget this day."

"You don't have to be so serious, Artie! You sound like an old man, dude!" Alfred said.

"Shut up, you bloody git!" Arthur screamed, blushing furiously.

More applause erupted for a third wave.

Somewhere in the back, Antonio called, "Lovi and I are going to get married soon too!" and Lovino screamed, "Shit! Damn shut up, bastard!" Matthew passed a nervous look at Francis, who smiled back and kissed him full on the lips. Heracles was resting his head on Kiku's shoulder, who was smiling as listening to Mei talk. Yao was being held in Ivan's embrace, silently talking to Ivan as he watched Leon try to get Yong Soo to get off of his chair. Toris was listening to Feliks as the Polish kept on talking about how if the wedding had pink unicorns in it, everything would've been so much better, but Ludwig said that he didn't want any pink unicorns…Lukas was whispering to Mathias, who laughed. Peter and Raivis were dancing in circles. Toni was smiling at the newly-wed couple, and Berwald was holding his hand. Elizaveta was crying happily as she watched her Feliciano get married off. Maximo was looking in a general direction of an empty chair. The owners of the empty seats of Roderich and Gilbert seemed to be the only things that were missing in the room.

Ludwig smiled happily, for the first time in his life not giving a single damn about anything, about having to keep to rules and regulations, about having to be serious.

He was _happy_ , damn, he would throw himself up in the air if he could.

If only Gilbert and Roderich were here, everything would be so much better…

Behind him, the silver dagger's tip glistened brightly, as the light from the windows shone down on it. Like a quiet oath broken, the cross of the hilt of the dagger crisply fell off.

The doors of the wedding hall opened as a gust of fresh air blew in.

Green bursts of mist entered dramatically.

"Where am I?" a very familiar yet at the same time unfamiliar voice asked.

 **Hey guys! I'm getting very lazy as the end of this is ending. I'm sorry the character's are a little OOC (out of character), but I really tried so that they would stay in character but still fit in the story line. I had hoped that everyone would get a 3 chapter focus, but I guess it's not going to happen (sorry!) This chapter was nice, eh? The end is coming very soon!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	31. Chapter 9 (DenNor)

_DenNor_

Lukas clapped halfheartedly as they reached the end of Toris' love song.

Gosh, this was _so_ boring. It wasn't even helping that Mathias was roaring in laughter at the Lithuanian's attempt to shriek at the top of his lungs yet only managing a timid, "I love you…"

You ask _how_? How he was stuck here?

Good question.

Let Lukas tell you.

It had been two days since Ludwig and Feliciano's lovely wedding. Some random guy _everyone_ knew _very_ well had burst in, asking in his aristocratic voice, "Where am I?"

Roderich Edelstein.

Hair still dripping with wet droplets of water, glasses not perched on its usual place, face paler than usual, terrifyingly dumbstruck, as if he didn't know where he was.

And he was surrounded by _green mist_.

The only person (everyone knew) that ever had anything to do with green mist was Arthur Kirkland, who had stood up very excitedly and screamed, "Yes!" Next to him, Vlad had clapped Viktor on the back and kissed him full on the mouth, saying, "I won! I knew Arthur would be able to do it!"

Arthur Kirkland, the British guy who had used to be in possession of Peter, had stood up and proudly announced, "My spell worked!"

"Only this one time, it worked well. Which is good," Alfred had snickered.

The whole room burst into laughter, the only person that remained rather serious and grim Ludwig, who kept on staring at the two seats. Feliciano had taken notice of it and finally asked, "What's wrong, Luddy?"

"It's just…I wish Gilbert could've been here. Arthur had succeeded, but Gilbert had left, and now Roderich is here…"

The whole room had gone silent.

"So where am I? And who am I?" Roderich had butt in.

Every single time Lukas remembered the details of that night, he couldn't help but slap his forehead. It was ridiculously stupid, everything, every _part_ of this whole damned situation! Why couldn't Gilbert have stayed? Why couldn't Arthur have told anyone about his plan?

Why couldn't Lukas have been informed that Mathias was inside part of this plan?

"…many times do I have to tell you, Lukas, I _really_ was planning to tell you. It's just that I didn't expect Roderich to be able to find his way to the wedding!" Mathias explained. He wasn't quite sure of why he was so panicked, it usually didn't matter, but this time he felt like if it wasn't explained, he might lose Lukas' faith in him forever.

He didn't like that thought one bit.

"Yes, because you _had_ to come and squeeze with me for two weeks and four days in a row just so that Roderich Edelstein could hide out at your house, am I correct? Is there something else you would like to inform me, like how you and Arthur, Vlad, Viktor, got so close? Are you going to answer me?" Lukas also had no particular idea of why he was getting so worked up as well. He normally didn't give a damn about anything that happened to the Danish and what happened in his life, but lately (and by lately, he meant ever since Roderich had disappeared from the hospital and Gilbert had left) he had really found the other to be quite intriguing.

Especially those eyes.

They seemed to see right through him.

And that personality that Lukas thought to be more and more endearing, what with the laugh, the optimistic view of life, everything that he desired to give to Emil…

What the _hell_ was he saying?

"…Lukas, are you listening to me?"

"Wh-What?" Lukas asked, turning his thoughts back onto the worried person in front of him. He knew very well that Emil was listening on to their conversation, that Toni and Berwald would be watching, that Raivis and Peter were inside the house playing (yet now it was quiet…hmm), yet he found it hard to keep himself from whispering, "Oh my word, your eyes are _beautiful_."

"Uh…Lukas?" Mathias asked, pulling away. This was the first time he felt rather unsure of himself.

"Hmm?"

"Why umm…the sudden shift in mood?" Mathias scooted away from the advancing Norwegian, who kept on staring at his eyes. Mathias couldn't help but eye the cross in Lukas' hair. It fit him rather well…

"Is there someone you like? You never answered me."

"I did! I told you—"

"Who?" Lukas suddenly demanded, stopping. There was a dead serious look in those normally dull eyes that didn't give a crap about anything in the world, yet now they were bright, clearly focused on Mathias like he was their prey.

"You," Mathias whispered without thinking.

He was way too intrigued by Lukas. Damn it, there was no way he was going to ease his way out of this one.

Now it was Lukas' turn to be rather stunned. He stumbled back as Mathias started to finish what Lukas had attempted to do. The snow was a soft bedding, the white, soft substance much like the quilts on the bed they shared.

"I like you, Lukas Bondevik," Mathias proclaimed, annunciating every word very carefully and precisely.

Especially when he forced the last word that he never said out of his mouth. He could never accept the fact that Lukas had a different last name than him—Lukas was his brother.

Yet this time, he was finally glad for one that Lukas was still different from him.

"What do you say?" Emil's voice called from up high. With his brother's voice encouraging him on, Lukas whispered his reply before falling into a fury of kisses.

"I _love_ you."

 **Happy happy! A lot more happy stuff coming up soon...the story is wrapping up! Still owe you guys an Extra, I haven't forgotten, very sorry about the drag...**

 **PuppetPainter**


	32. Chapter 9 (LietPol)

_LietPol_

Feliks stared at Toris, tapping his fingers nervously on the paper in front of him. The World Meeting was, for the first time, very boring.

People kept on staring at each other across the room.

There was no bickering to be involved in, there was no fighting to be attending to, there were no words that could be said crudely within the silence of the entire room. Arthur and Francis were both too busy staring at Alfred and Matthew. Ludwig was whispering things in Feliciano's ear, which caused the Italian to laugh.

No one talked.

"Like, is this really all we're going to do? Like, we all have better things to do then, like, you know what I mean, right?" Feliks finally spoke, snuggling the pink unicorn to his chest. He was fairly displeased, as he saw Toris seemed to have things to do, yet was still sitting here.

Idly.

Uselessly.

Everyone stood up, and Ludwig proclaimed, "Meeting's adjourned. Everyone can go home now."

Filing out the door, Elizaveta took hold of Roderich's arm and guided him out. It was quite astonishing to Feliks, really, that Roderich Edelstein had gone _blind_ , yet somehow survived. It seemed that the blow to the back of his head that had been found to exist later was a lot more fatal than the stab that was delivered to his chest. The hit had not only made his heart stop but had damaged his optical nerves.

If only Gilbert Beilschmidt could see his lover now, he would realize just how much he had to apologize.

Feliks gazed towards his left. Toris was fumbling around with his fingers, apparently mesmerized with something on his mind. Feliks wasn't sure of what it was—he just knew it was really troubling Toris.

"Like, totes. You look like your mother died," Feliks blurted out as he also exited the room next to Toris.

"Huh?"

"I said you look rather disturbed. Like, what's troubling you?" Feliks asked again, hoping that Toris would stop looking like the world's about to end. He handed the Lithuanian his unicorn in hopes to cheer him up.

"Feliks, how do you know if you like someone…or if someone likes _you_?" Toris asked.

Feliks' eyes lit up.

Now that was a subject he knew pretty much everything about!

"So, like, if you have a hard time looking at the person without fantasizing about them, sleeping or awake, happy or sad, and like, if you want to share the _exact_ same feelings they are experiencing, and like, everything that's going on with your life connects with them, and like, you can't help but think that you are holding hands with them, or you are eating dinner with them, or if you guys are walking together, shoulder by shoulder, or like, if you guys are k—" Feliks stopped abruptly, realizing that he had gone off of exactly what he was feeling when he was with Toris.

And then the Lithuanian said something that astonished the Polish.

"Kissing," Toris ended the sentence.

"What?" Feliks asked.

"Kissing," Toris repeated. Right after that, his face rose up in color and he started to fumble with his fingers again.

"Wait—no! I mean…uh…"

"With who?" Feliks asked.

"Uh…"

"Who?" Feliks felt tears start to rim the border of his eyes. He wasn't quite sure of why he was reacting so badly. What…what person was Toris in love with? It seemed like…

His heart felt like it was about to shatter.

Toris, noticing this change, which would bring a major change to the rest of his life, and Feliks', on that note, had grabbed the Polish's shoulders and spun his around before Feliks could run away crying.

"Feliks!"

"Let go of me!"

"Have a unicorn!" Toris shouted randomly, shoving the pink unicorn in Feliks' face. The Polish, caught off surprise, stumbled back.

"Toris! Who do you, like, like? I'm so scared, what if you like her?"

"Her?" Toris' eyes widened, realizing what Feliks was freaking out about. Feliks thought that Toris liked Natalya? That was so overdate! Right now…the only thing he could think about were the eyes that were the forest of summer, hair the color of sunshine, a smile like a sassy princess, loving the color pink…

"I love you," he whispered.

"What?" Feliks shrieked. "No way! What are you even, like, talking about? Have you, like, totes gone crazy?"

Toris grabbed the other's wrists. For the first time in his life, he found himself finally managing to muster enough courage to be able to do _something_.

He pressed his lips down on the other's, and whispered again:

 _I love you_.

 **It's the final countdown! Three more chapters until the very end of this thing. I know that I still owe you guys an extra. please remind me! P.S. please tell me what you think my next story should be about, so that I can collect information.**

 **PuppetPainter**


	33. Chapter 9 (Spamano)

_Spamano_

"Bastard! Keep away from me! You're still crippled, I don't want you dying your rotting corpse on me!" Lovino shouted. Antonio stopped reaching for his lover. He backed off, the Spaniard's face astonishingly gloomy.

"Lovi, why can't you be like Feliciano?"

"Are you going to do this again? I thought we had agreed not to bring this thing up again—"

"Why can't you rely on me more? What does it take for me to capture every part of you? I've loved you since you were a child, since you were dressed in those maid clothes. I wanted to switch you away because I was scared I'd never be able to separate from you. And now look, look at me, Lovino Vargas. I'm ready to give up every part of my life, _just for you_. How can you love me, Lovi? Love me? How?"

"Love you?" Lovino scoffed. "Antonio, how dare you ask me that? You know that I do. You know that you're the only one that has an ego big enough for me to never destroy, you know that no matter who I can hate, I can never hate you! I'm scared, I'm afraid I can never leave you too! Don't you know, you bastard, I'm scared that when you die I'll be left here alone!"

"Really?" Antonio's head snapped back up, his eyes wide in astonishment.

"Yes," Lovino murmured quietly. "Now shut up, _idiota_."

" _Ti amo, ti amo_ , Lovi, I don't know what I'll do without you!" Antonio announced, pouncing, crutches and everything, onto the Italian, who became crushed under this pile of Spanish.

 _"_ _Get off of me!_ " Lovino screamed, flushing deep red as Antonio continued to make his move on him.

"Lovi, if I ask you out for a date, would you agree?"

"What?"

"Date, Lovi. Date. We're going to get married soon anyways—"

"We are _not_!"

"So why not go on a date? One without Feliciano or Ludwig tagging along? One with only you and me? How about that Lovi? I'll take your silence as a yes," Antonio laughed. "Well then, get dressed!"

Dragging his beloved into the room, a series of screams followed shortly after.

"Get off—gah!"

"Lovi! The reservation's time is set at 7:30!"

Finally, with only a few minutes to spare, the Spanish was all dressed up, and the Italian was finally content with the costume he had picked out.

Walking into the restaurant, Antonio called something out in Spanish towards the waitress. Lovino knew that Antonio had asked for the " _usual_ ", but his question was now why the waitress was giggling as she ran away to place the order.

"Do you come here often?" Lovino asked.

"Yeah," Antonio replied without thinking. He guided Lovino over to a seat at the corner of the restaurant.

"With who?" Lovino demanded, unpleased.

"Hmm? Oh thanks, Seychelles. Would you like to place an order for yourself?" Antonio asked, taking two plates of food into his hand from the tray. The girl laughed and replied something back in Spanish that Lovino _didn't_ understand.

"What'd she say?" Lovino asked as the girl walked away. "And who is she…to you?"

Finally catching on, Antonio suddenly burst out in laughter.

"Jealous? That's Seychelles, my really good fried. Arthur's ex-girlfriend, remember?" Lovino glanced at the girl again, unwilling to believe that the girl used to date the Englishman. But yes, no wonder, the girl really did look familiar. And she _did_ emit that aura of a country in disguise of a human…

"So what'd she say?" Lovino asked again.

"She asked me if I was going to propose," Antonio replied offhandedly, finishing his food. His hand moved towards Lovino's food. The Italian pushed it to him, more curious about asking him about the girl rather than his food that Antonio was eating. Then it finally passed his mind what the Spanish had said.

"What?" Lovino gasped.

"C'mon, let's go," Antonio laughed, standing up and walking out the restaurant, saying something in Spanish to Seychelles who smiled and waved.

As they walked down the streets of Spain, Antonio put an arm around Lovino's waist.

"Sometimes I really wish you would be a little softer with me," he murmured quietly, unknowingly out loud. And so therefore he didn't know Lovino had heard it as well.

"…"

"Kiss me."

Lovino's face flushed red. Antonio stared down at Lovino's face, trying to process the words he had just heard. _Did Lovi just ask him to…?_

They rounded the corner of block, the Spanish's house coming into view. Pressing a button in the elevator, the two entered.

"Smile," the Spaniard said, and upon opening the camera of his phone, he watched himself smile charmingly into the screen, a red-faced Lovino glancing up and managing a cute little smile. He couldn't help it anymore. This was the Lovino he desired…not Feliciano Vargas, but _Lovino Vargas,_ his little tomato.

The elevator door opened, and Antonio pushed Lovino into the house.

"Damn, you're f*cking this up, aren't you?" Antonio hissed, dropping the phone and shoving Lovino to the ground, biting his neck and ripping his clothes off. The dangerous glint in his eyes was one of pure lust and desire.

And the night dragged on with screams and gasps, the photo on the screen of Antonio's phone brightly flashing out amongst the darkness.

A very stunned Lovino's face half-covered by an Antonio's head, pressed onto the other's lips.

 **Sorry, this is 20 minutes late! I'm so sad that this things is ending in 3 chapters...(I know I said three last time, I just realized that Chapter Nine only had two parts in it...so I had to make it four. Continue to review and favorite/follow!**

 **PuppetPainter**


	34. AN (I'm terrible, rly rly sorry!)

**Gosh, I know I shouldn't be doing this. There's seriously only 3 chapters left, and I'm doing this. I rly sorry. Truly. You guys know what this is about.**

 **Yes.**

 **Sorry, I need a break. I promise I come back before the end of April.**

 **Cliffhanger, sorry.**

 **PuppetPainter**


	35. Chapter 10 (Sufin)

_SuFin_

Toni laughed as his son made a face-plant into the ground. He glanced over at the pink unicorn Feliks was waving in the air while joining Raivis on the ground, rolling together; Peter was getting up, grumbling about "Jerks…bastards with a pink…"

"How is everything going, Toris?" he asked the Lithuanian who was staring at the Polish figure on the snowy ground.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. I guess…we're getting used to it, you know? He's telling me to, like, buff up and like, stuff."

"You're starting to sound like him," Lukas remarked. He was standing behind Emil was giving his younger brother a shoulder massage. "Toris, just how exactly do you put up with Feliks like that? Sometimes he acts more like a child than Peter or Raivis combined."

"Berwald, where are you?" Toni called. His husband made his way out of his house then, holding a screw driver and a wrench. Toni noticed how his face was wet and his hair was matted down. Oh, and the face part also had a bunch of grease on it. And the most important thing was that his glasses were missing.

And he was wearing a work suit.

"The water faucet's broken," he replied simply.

Toni waved him over and told him to take a break. Berwald went and sat down with him, Toris, Emil, and Lukas. Mathias walked past them then, standing next to his new lover. Lukas glanced over and Mathias and quickly looked back down at Emil, blushing.

"H-Hey," Mathias stuttered. Toni smiled to himself, pleased that _finally_ , his two brothers were getting along.

 _Finally_.

Truly, it had taken them _way_ too long to get to this step.

"Sometimes…" Emil started. His eyes were still trained on the 3 tackling each other in the snow.

"Yes?"

"I feel a lot more than I'd like to feel. I know that you love Mathias, Lukas. Sometimes I just don't understand how this love issue works. I don't want you to end up into something like Gilbert and Roderich. I don't want you to get hurt like that…Mathias, I want you to swear that you'll never do something like that to Lukas. Swear it," Emil demanded, his eyes distant, as if he could _see_ Gilbert.

"I…"

"Swear!" Emil cried, tears rolling down his face. "I can hear Roderich crying, his heart is completely shattered! I don't want Lukas to end up like that!"

"I swear on my life, my glory, my whole being," Mathias swore. His eyes were dead serious, and he couldn't help but admire the boldness in Lukas' brother. _No one_ before had _ever_ demanded him to do something…

Not since Berwald and Toni, at least.

Toni smiled, knowing what Mathias was thinking.

Suddenly, someone tackled the group from behind, and Feliciano's voice rang out.

"Guys, something…Gilbert's back! He…he saw Roderich, and then now everything is super messed up, and I don't—"

"Slow down," Berwald said.

Ludwig showed up behind Feliciano, his eyes serious and the frown on his face even deeper than usual. Toni knew that there was something wrong then, as his entire presence indicated a bad omen. Peter seemed to notice too, as he stopped rolling in the snow and told Raivis and Feliks to stop fooling around.

"My bruder came passed through Denmark today morning. He happened to stop by Mathias' house, and there he heard piano music flowing out the doors."

"And?" Feliks asked, coming up behind Toris and tackling him with his pink unicorn.

"And, he entered the house, and then he opened the door, and then the broken neck of the guitar that Roderich had once bought for him fell off when Elizaveta had put it. So, then Gilbert had picked it up, and then charged into the room where Roderich was, and then he…" Feliciano's voice trailed off as he glanced down at his feet. Toni knew that something not that great was coming up…or had happened.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Roderich had immediately broken down when he saw Gilbert, and my bruder had sank into complete guilt after that."

"He still doesn't remember him, right?" Berwald asked.

"Yes."

"So…why'd you come here?" Emil asked, his eyes gazing at the broken down Feliciano, who had decided that clinging himself onto the arm of Ludwig would be a great thing to do.

"Because we need Toni and Berwald to come with us. You guys have been dealing with this love crisis so many times, and you two are _so_ great at it, we thought that maybe you two would be the only ones that can help us," Feliciano begged. "Please?"

Toni glanced at Berwald, who returned his gaze and gave a rare little smile.

"You said that because it is Ludwig who ask, you will say yes," Berwald stated. Toni began to smile, his eyes turning into bridges. He turned around and looked at Lukas and Mathias.

"You two, you're in charge of the kids and Toris, okay?" he said. Mathias shouted, "Yes!" and Lukas blushed as he sighed, "Alright…" Feliks started to pout.

"What do you mean? Can't I—"

"You in the 'kid' section, Feliks," Toris said, biting his bottom lip. Feliks gasped and waved his unicorn around.

"Really? Cool, 'cause I, like, totes love being a—wait." Feliks suddenly turned around and glared at Toni. "You referred to me as a _kid_? I'm not that…that…like, why did you have to say that?" Feliks shouted, finally catching on that the hidden message was _you're immature_.

Toni smiled, but didn't reply to him directly.

"I think you're perfect the way you are. Now, Ludwig, let's go to solve this…problem you have."

Ludwig smiled, and grabbed Feliciano's hand to steady the Italian down, as he was jumping up and down and screaming and crying, and shouting, "Ti amo! Ti amo!" over and over again.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Toni looked over and Berwald and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," Toni repeated into his husband's ear.

 **Gosh, I haven't been back in a whole month! That's so scary! I'm so sorry this has dragged on for so long, the last two chapters will be up before the end of May! Thank you for supporting this story! Pls continue to comment, I might add extras from time to time!**

 **PuppetPainter**

 **P.S. Yes, I still owe you guys another Extra. I will get that up. I promise.**


	36. Chapter 10 (Giripan) FINALE

_Giripan_

Most people were already gathered at Mathias' house—of course, excluding Mathias himself and Lukas, who were watching the kids at Toni and Berwald's house. Kiku could swear that Hercules would've crashed in the snow if the kitten hadn't been hissing in Heracles' ear all the time.

Kiku could also swear that Hercules was starting to get rather attached to the cat.

After all, there had been no cat that had rejected him so hard before—For Heracles, this was _totally_ new. So maybe there was something to thank Leon for…

And then there was the whole issue that seemed to be rather awful. There was a lot of conflict that was happening in Mathias' house, what with Roderich still breathing rapidly, and Gilbert hiding himself and burying his head in shame. People questioned if Arthur, Vlad, and Viktor really should've brought the Austrian back alive. Perhaps it was for the worse?

Maybe.

Arthur had been working on the new potion, which had to do with bringing the dead back alive…or at least concealing it but keeping alive. Kiku still wasn't quite sure about details.

All he knew was that it had made the country come back to life, yet had not preserved his memories, but had left him enough feelings to get multiplied with when the situation was confusing enough for the victim (Roderich) to get hurt because his emotions were strongly revolting, but he couldn't understand why.

Kiku would've been hurt too, but perhaps not has dramatic.

Japanese people aren't supposed to have such dramatic emotions. He can control himself…perhaps.

"Hmm…Kiku, please get Hiro off me…"

Just as Kiku leaned over and grabbed the cat, Toni and Berwald had walked out of the house with Ludwig and Feliciano. Kiku bit his lip, unsure of what was going to happen.

"They need time to talk," was all Ludwig said.

A brief silence passed through the people, and all of a sudden people started talking.

Kiku felt Hiro struggle, and so he let the cat go. The tiny creature scampered through the crowds and dashed into the house. Kiku tried to chase after it, but with Heracles leaning on his shoulder, there wasn't much he could do without dropping Heracles to the ground.

Then from the interior of the house, everyone heard Gilbert scream, "Roderich!" way too loudly for it to just be an expression.

Then, sailing out of the window of the house, was Hiro. The cat was dissolving as it fell into a burst of green mist, much like one that Kiku had seen before…in Arthur's basement. Kiku snapped his head to the British man, who had a knowing smile on his face. Alfred was staring at the falling kitten when Arthur, too, disappeared.

"Arthur!" Kiku screamed, his voice carrying over the crowds.

Everyone turned to see the last of Arthur Kirkland disappear in a puff of smoke.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked, turning around to see an empty pile of clothes on the ground next to him. His eyes widened. "Dude, this isn't funny," he said.

There was no reply.

At this moment, Roderich and Gilbert both came out of the house, Roderich holding tightly onto Gilbert's hand. There was a look of pain on it.

"What happened?" Ludwig asked them.

Roderich sighed.

"I…the cat. Kiku and Heracles' cat…it came into the room. It started scratching me, and so Gilbert started screaming. Then the cat…bit me, and immediately I felt like I understood what Gilbert was going through, and at the same time, I felt Arthur start to fade away. I don't know how I knew…I just knew. After that, it leapt out of the window…"

Alfred rushed up front.

"He didn't give me a living potion. You can't make a resurrection potion!" Roderich yelled, "he used a life-swap potion! He changed his life for mine, and me losing my memories was just a flaw in the spell. I…I…"

"Roderich!" Alfred screamed. He lunged forward and punched the Austrian.

"Alfred! It isn't his fault!' Gilbert shouted back, pulling the American off of Roderich. The entire time, Kiku couldn't think. He wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't believe that this had _had_ to happen…it couldn't have been done any other way?

Why?

Why did someone have to die?

He couldn't understand.

Why was Arthur, who was so self-conceited, so sassy, so…arrogant…why was he willing to give up his life for Roderich Edelstein? They weren't too close, but why?

Would he have done it?

"Arthur!" Alfred's broken sobs tore through the air, and everyone turned their eyes down to the ground.

"I'm…"

"Please…kill me…" Alfred whispered. Tears streamed down his face. "If you can't kill me, I'll do it myself. I can't…I can't live without him…"

"I'm so sorry…"

"Please…"

Gilbert Beilschmidt pulled out a silver dagger from his belt, and he asked, "Really?"

"Yes."

Alfred leaned forward, grabbing the hilt of the dagger, and drove it through his chest. Everyone screamed, gasped, panicked…everything was going wrong.

 _This isn't what it's meant to be_ , Kiku thought. _It's not supposed to turn out like this_.

He, too, broke down. Alfred and Arthur were two of his best friends…

"Thank You…"

And with those two words, all the countries in the world knew what was to happen next.

In the years that are to follow this story, yet never to be told, a new era had started…without Alfred and Arthur in flesh, but always in the soul. Things still happened, World Meetings still occurred, yet they were much quieter. There was no, "Bloody Hell!" and "I am the Hero!" There was nothing there to miss, yet everything was also there to remember. Wars were fought, sides were made, world changing events happened.

But none of the nations, everyone knew, would ever forget Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland.

 _End._

 **I know. I'm crap. I'm so sorry, I just don't want to drag this on forever. I'm sorry the ending was so crappy and abrupt, really, but it was what I really wanted it to end like. If there was anything you didn't get, feel free to comment. You guys totally deserve to punch me in the face. I'm sorry.**

 **I swear, it's not going to happen again. Your forgiveness is much appreciated. I love you guys too.**

 **Thank you.**

 **PuppetPainter.**


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